The Untold Story of Lily Boffin
by Judy Blue Eyes
Summary: In the two years between Frodo's return to the Shire and his departure for the Undying Lands, there was Lily. MAJOR CHANGES! 24 June 08
1. Prologue

Gossip took to the fields of the Shire like a bright spark of flame

A/N: Lily has undergone major changes, my dear readers, and is now better than ever. Seriously. It's so much better. I read through the whole thing and fixed typos and stuff, but I also fixed weird, melodramatic, stupid stuff. Blech. How did I even post some of that? Oh well. It's been a year and I've progressed. Anyways, the main changes of substance have taken place in chapters 15-34. That's a broad range, I know, but I made a lot of changes. Thanks to all of those who have read in the past and to all of those who are just now beginning. You will notice as you go along, I love reviews. So post them! And to all of those who have been waiting a year for me to post a new chapter: Thanks for your patience. The time if finally here! (24 June 08)

A/N: This story will be very book-friendly. In case you're wondering, I'd call it Tolkien-nouveau mixed with a bit of Jane Austen (_Pride and Prejudice_, _Sense and Sensibility_, etc.) and just a touch of Louisa May Alcott (_Little Women_). . . And then some completely different stuff. But don't let me tell you what it's like. Find out for yourself.

Gossip took to the fields of the Shire like a bright spark of flame. Within a few hours of their return, every hobbit West of the Old Forest knew half the tale of Frodo and his companions, though most of what they thought they knew was invented by the gossipers. Life was not to be simple for the adventurers, though the only things they wished for were a hot bath, a warm fire, and a comfortable bed. No, one more battle was left to be fought.

While the former Fellowship had been busy celebrating their defeat of Sauron, the lesser of two evils had taken up residence in the Shire. The downfallen wizard had taken to calling himself Sharkey, clearly quite an ironic name since a true shark never would have been thick enough to imprison the people of the Ringbearer. For when the four traveling hobbits finally returned from their great quest, they were forever changed. Sam was braver; Frodo was wiser; Merry and Pippin were actually physically taller. They'd come through great evils to save their beloved Shire and were not about to be deterred now.

Frodo and his friends tore down the rules and raised the Shire against their captors. Yet when the ruffians were thrown out and Saruman's rule ended, there was still much work to be done. There were more things than houses that needed rebuilding. There were lives.

There was much praise given to Merry and Pippin as this rebuilding was going on since they had, by all accounts, led the hobbits in the Battle of Bywater, and even to Sam. Frodo, however, faded into the background. He did not mind it and was content to live simply in Bag End. Yet there was one person who saw through the smoke, as it were, and this was Lily Boffin.


	2. Before The Green Dragon

Lily Boffin was a young hobbit maid just recently come of age

Lily Boffin was a young hobbit maid just recently come of age. She was the seemingly mild-mannered granddaughter of old Will Whitfoot, the Mayor. Her hair was curly and the color of spun sugar, her eyes a sea-like blue. She was a pretty maid in all accounts, brought up to be the perfect daughter of the Shire. Yet behind this painted facade lay a restless spirit. It was because of this restless spirit that she left her home one eve to watch the Ringbearer and his company as they planned for what would come to be known as the Battle of Bywater.

Lily found the company near _The Green Dragon_ conversing with a pack of ruffians. She stood back just far enough to be out of the way but near enough to hear them clearly. She'd heard the rumors that had already begun to spread. They were what had brought her from her home in the first place. But she was smart enough not to believe one of them, and that's why she risked watching the companions. Her curiosity could be quenched only by truth.

Lily had had quite a normal childhood filled with many adventures in the fields and the occasional show of Gandalf's splendid fireworks. All that had changed, however, in the past year. Shiriffs, Shiriffs everywhere and rules, rules, rules. She'd come to be wary of people, of everyone and everything. Now, seeing Frodo sitting patiently, serenely upon his pony, her mind wandered back to that time that seemed so long ago, that time of freedom when she was a child.

She remembered when she'd first met Frodo Baggins, first become aware that he existed. It was at his coming of age at the party his uncle, Bilbo, had thrown in conjunction with his own eleventy-first birthday. It was then that the entire Shire became aware of him. They'd known him before, of course, and they'd talked, but it was only after Bilbo's sudden disappearance that the talk got serious. Back then Lily had listened eagerly, even spread rumors of her own. At 15 one does such things, but she was older now and had grown to ignore the gossip, for it was usually just that. They had, after all, said poor Frodo was dead, yet here he was now before her quite intact as far as she could tell and his companions too.

Lily's mind came back to the present, and she watched the scene before her unfold eagerly. Frodo was speaking quietly, calmly to the Men. She could barely make out his words. The Men's responses were quite harsh in contrast and easily audible. Then suddenly, after a comment from one of the ruffians that Frodo was nothing but a "little cock-a-whoop," one of Frodo's companions moved forward. He challenged the man bravely, sword in hand. Frodo's two other companions, one of whom Lily knew as Frodo's gardener, Samwise Gamgee, drew swords as well. Frodo, however, did not. The scene puzzled Lily, for she did not understand the companions' dutiful protection of Frodo. He was not such a well-respected hobbit, after all.

The ruffians fled, and Lily put away those thought for the time being as she listened for what would be said next. To her and also the companions' great surprise, Frodo spoke of saving Lotho. No killing, he insisted, unless absolutely necessary. And, though they made plans of their own for an uprising, they accepted this and agreed. As they each rode off on their own errand, so did Lily run off to her home. Though she was curious of the truth, she was not curious enough to get caught up in a fight.

A/N: Review please!


	3. Lily and Mr Baggins

Lily sat under the mallorn tree in the Party Field twirling her hair

A/N: Necessary background: This chapter takes place in late May, the previous one having taken place the November before. The Shire has been taken back from Sharkey and all is put to rights. Frodo is the temporary Mayor because Will Whitfoot was imprisoned by Sharkey and needed time to get back to health before reassuming his position.

Lily sat under the mallorn tree in the Party Field twirling her hair. She was quite lost in her musings until she noticed Frodo coming down the walk from Bag End. Lily had been in quite close proximity to Frodo in the past months, he having taken over her grandfather's place as mayor for the time being, and had come to admire him greatly. He was no longer simply the odd hobbit who threw grand birthday parties, but rather the grand hobbit for whom she had an odd sort of respect. She often pressed Sam for tales of their journeys, which he was quite happy to give. Through these she had learned a bit about the quiet hobbit and could guess at the reasons for his strange manner.

'So is it him?' came the sudden inquiry from her sister Poppy startling her out of her reverie.

'Is what who?' she responded, quite flustered.

'Is it him?' Poppy repeated. 'Is it Mr. Baggins? Is _he_ the one you're always daydreaming about?' Poppy was younger than Lily by seven years and still in her tweens. She was quite the busybody and always interested in affairs of the heart. Now that Lily was of marrying age, Poppy was always two steps behind her, watching her every move, hoping to discover her sister's love interest so that she could be the one to make the match.

'No, Poppy. I told you. I'm not daydreaming about anyone. I just like to think,' Lily said exasperatedly.

'Oh, posh!' Poppy contradicted. 'No one likes to think _that_ much . . . except maybe Mr. Baggins. So there, you see? He's perfect for you!--'

'Poppy!'

'--A bit older maybe, but there's no harm in that. Good blood in his family. Mr. Bilbo Baggins _was_ eleventy-one when he disappeared--'

'Poppy, would you just--'

'--And a bit odd if you ask me, but I suppose he's more respectable now being temporary Mayor and all. He _is_ handsome and quite kind, always asking after everyone when he comes to see Granddad.--'

'--stop it already. I--'

'That's it! I can speak with him when he comes to see Granddad. I'll just have to make sure I answer the door and Granddad is busy with something so I have a minute and--'

'am _not_ interested in Frodo. I'm not interested in anyone,' Lily finally finished quite resolutely.

'Oh posh and posh again! Not interested in Mr. Baggins? Oh, I mean _Frodo_!' Poppy teased playfully. 'Of course you're not interested in _him_. Why would you be? I mean, he's handsome and rich and so very kind, a friend of the family and well respected now at least. No, of course not. You simply couldn't be interested in _Frodo_!'

'Poppy, I'm tired of your antics. Now leave me alone about Mr. Baggins already; I mean it!' Lily said sharply.

'Oh, so he's Mr. Baggins now is he?' Poppy continued to tease as she walked off down the road. Lily scowled. She'd honestly had enough of her kid sister's behavior. She loved the girl and all of that, but they were so very different. If it weren't for the fact that they quite strikingly resembled one another, she'd wonder if they were really sisters at all. Poppy's hair was a bit more golden than brown, and her eyes were a bit darker, but aside from that the two might have been twins.

Just then Frodo came down along the road and waved to Lily under the mallorn. Lily smiled and returned the greeting, then apprehensively turned to see if her sister was near. She relaxed when she found Poppy was not. Frodo stepped onto the grass and crossed the short distance between them. 'Hello, Lily. I was just on my way to your house to see if your grandfather is about. May I walk you or am I interrupting your reverie?'

'Well, I was just thinking, but I'm afraid that was spoiled before you came along by my silly sister. Poppy is always interfering where she doesn't belong.'

'Ah, yes. Well, she is young still,' Frodo said kindly and paused. 'So you'll walk with me then?'

Lily thought for a moment and almost declined -- she'd taken enough grief from Poppy and did not want to add more wood to the fire -- but she soon decided not to let Poppy bother her. She would have a pleasant time walking home with Frodo, more pleasant than walking by herself. He truly was kind, after all, and they'd had many a pleasant conversation. 'Of course I will,' she responded finally and took his hand when he reached down to help her up. She quickly brushed off her dress and they were off.

A/N: Review, please!


	4. Call me Darling

A/N: a "cuppa" means "cup of tea" in Brit-speak, as it were

Lily unhitched the gate before the front walk and let Frodo inside. She spotted her youngest brother, Tom, playing in the garden with his friends and waved to him before entering the house. 'Mother?' she called and was answered by a slight mutter that sounded like it came from the kitchen, which she entered, Frodo in tow. Immediately upon entering, she found herself face to face with two snickering sisters, whom she moved past to where she could see her mother hunched over digging in the pantry. 'Mother, first off, Tom's in the garden again, and second, we've a guest.'

'Oh bother that boy--' said Susan Boffin as she stood up, '--Oh! Mr. Baggins! So good to see you! Can I get you anything? Some tea maybe or a bit of crumb cake?'

'No thank you, Mrs. Boffin. I've just come to call on Will,' Frodo responded in his politest tone.

'Oh, he's gone to pay a visit to a friend, I'm afraid. He'll be back by supper, though. You're welcome to stay. We're having stew.'

'That's very kind, Mrs. Boffin, but I have to decline. I'm expected elsewhere. Another time perhaps.'

'Of course, of course, another time,' Mrs. Boffin said a bit over eagerly.

'Come then, Mr. Baggins. If you simply _must_ be on your way, I'll show you out,' said Lily playing into the faux formality the room had assumed. As they left the room, Frodo visibly relaxed. Lily knew he was far more comfortable in more intimate, familiar settings, and that this, rather than some important meeting, was the reason he'd declined the dinner invitation. Normally the Boffin home was cozy as any other, but for some reason unknown to Lily her mother was always quite nervous around Frodo, or at least she had been since his return from his mysterious journey. It was probably because he was now rich _and _ respected and held her father's former position. 'Well, it's been a pleasure as always, Mr. Baggins. I hope you drop by again soon.'

'I'd certainly be happy to see you anytime, Lily, but your mother's so. . .'

'Formal?' Lily finished.

'Between you and me,' said Frodo with a chuckle. 'And, please, Frodo's fine,' he added as an afterthought.

'Alright, then. Good afternoon,' said Lily and she opened the door and saw him off with a smile.

The moment the door was closed, Lily heard twin voices sing out mockingly from behind her, 'If you _simply must _be on your way, _I'll_ show you _out_!' She spun around to see Poppy and her youngest sister Marigold emerging from their hiding place around the corner.

'It's been a pleasure, Mr. Baggins!' teased Poppy.

'Come again soon, Mr. Baggins!' continued Mari.

'I'd always love to see you.'

'And I mean _love_ to see you.'

'I _always_ love to see _you_, Mr. Baggins!'

'_Always_!'

'Call me Frodo!'

'Frodo!'

Call me Sweetie!'

'Sweetie!'

'Call me . . . Darling!'

'Darling!'

'Darling Frodo! Darling Frodo! Oh, Darling Frodo!' the two began to chant as one.

'Alright, stop. You've had your fun. Now that's quite enough of that,' Lily scolded. Then she marched into the kitchen, the younger girls giggling behind her. Lily sat down on a stool. Her mother was cutting carrots for the stew, so she decidedly got up, pulled the stool over, and began to assist her. 'So, Mother, have you had a pleasant day?'

'Well, aside from Tom and his constant shenanigans, I'd say my day's been splendid. Yours?'

'Well, aside from _Poppy_ and _her_ constant shenanigans, I'd say mine's been splendid as well.'

Mrs. Boffin chuckled slightly and shook her head. Then there was silence as each chopped her carrots until Mrs. Boffin finally asked, 'So, what's all this about Mr. Baggins?' which elicited a frustrated moan from Lily and a fit of laughter from her two sisters.

A/N: Review please!


	5. Stew

Frodo entered Bag End and shut the door quietly but he was heard nonetheless

Frodo entered Bag End and shut the door quietly, but he was heard nonetheless. 'Hello, Mr. Frodo. Where've you been?' Sam asked as he entered the front room.

'I went to call on Will, but he wasn't at home,' Frodo responded and moved into the study.

'Ah, yeah. I saw you walkin' that way with Miss Lily,' said Sam. When Frodo did not respond, he continued. 'Rosie's makin' supper. It'll be ready in a minute.'

'Do you know what she's making?' Frodo asked casually, picking a book off of one of the bookshelves that surrounded the room.

'Why, stew,' said Sam matter-of-factly, 'an' it's the best stew in the whole Shire savin' my own. . . t' be honest.' He grinned, and Frodo chuckled. 'What? You don' think it's true? You just wait 'til you try it. You'll see,' said Sam defensively.

'No, no, Sam. I believe you,' responded Frodo.

'Well, what's funny then?'

'Nothing, really. Just that the Boffins were having stew as well tonight,' he said only to placate Sam as he replaced the book and removed another. It didn't work out as he had planned.

'Well, how d'you know that, Mr. Frodo?' Sam asked, and then it dawned on him. 'Were you asked to stay?'

'Well, yes,' said Frodo reluctantly, repeating his previous action.

'Well, why didn't you?' Sam asked, now puzzled and truly eager to know the answer. 'You know Rosie and me wouldn've minded.'

'I don't know. Susan's always so stuffy and formal. It would've been different if Will had been there, but he wasn't,' Frodo said with conviction.

There was a brief moment of silence before Sam dared, 'You know, Mr. Frodo, that Miss Lily's a pretty girl and all grown up now.--'

'Oh, no! Not you too, Sam?!' exclaimed Frodo, clearly frustrated, and finally giving his full attention to his friend.

'All I'm sayin' is she's a nice girl. You're around 'er all the time nowadays and seem to like 'er. So I jus' thought maybe. . . I don' know, but she comes 'round 'ere an awful lot, Mr. Frodo. She's always wantin' to 'ear stories.'

'Sam, Lily is a friend. I work with her grandfather. And so she likes stories. So do I,' said Frodo setting down his book.

'But that's my point, Mr. Frodo, sir,' insisted Sam. 'You're both so very alike. And anyways she doesn't come 'round just to 'ear stories. She could 'ear _them_ anywhere. She comes 'round 'ere to 'ear stories about _you_.' Frodo remained silent, fingering the book he had lain on the table. 'Just think about it, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam anxiously. He sighed. 'When ya left 'er, wha'd she say?'

'She called me "Mr. Baggins" and told me to come again sometime. That's just being polite,' Frodo said indignantly.

'And what did _you _say?' Sam continued patiently.

'I told her I'd love to see her any time and to call. . . me Frodo.' Frodo lost momentum at the end and returned to fingering the pages of his book. He sighed. Sam smiled and turned his back to leave, but was called back by, 'Sam?'

He turned back around and answered, 'Yes, Mr. Frodo?'

'When she comes--' He looked up as he said this, his voice soft and unsure. '--she asks to hear stories about me?'

'Yes, Mr. Frodo. It's as I've said.'

'And. . . do you tell her stories?'

'Why, of course, Mr. Frodo. Why wouldn't I?' Sam was bewildered as to the point of the conversation.

'What _sort_ of stories do you tell her?' Frodo asked in an odd tone, a tone Sam hadn't heard since, since--

'Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?' Sam asked worriedly.

'I'm fine, Sam. I just wonder what sort of stories you tell _Lily_.' he was still speaking in that tone and Sam was beginning to worry, but what was he to do but answer? He knew that tone, but he also knew it would pass. Or. . . he hoped it would pass. He'd heard that tone many a time without knowing what it meant, but _that_ had become all too clear inside the mountain.

'Oh, this and that,' said Sam, trying to be cheery. 'Sometimes I tell 'er 'bout when we were younger, but most o' that's borin' stuff. Mostly she asks about things 'at 'appened. . . while we were away.'

'On the quest, you mean.'

Frodo's statement needed no answer, but Sam gave one anyways. 'Well, yes. I've told 'er a lot about the elves and some funny little things 'ere and there. Not anythin' serious, really.'

'Then you haven't told her about the Ring?' Frodo got to the point.

'Well, no. Not precisely, I mean. Sure, I've mentioned somethin' 'bout it, now and then, but nothin' about it's pow'r er evil er what 'appened to 't er even that _it_ was why we left in the first place. An' I've not spoken a bit about anythin' secret, say, like th' Counsel er anything'. It's harmless stuff, all, really.'

'It's okay, Sam. It's fine. I believe you. Relax,' Frodo stopped him. 'Now, how about that stew, eh?' And he was back to his old self again just like that.

A/N: Review please!


	6. In the Wheat Field

Frodo rapped lightly on the door

A/N: So for all of you who aren't freaks like me, Blotmath is the hobbit equivalent of November. Lily is referencing Frodo and Co.'s initial return, aka the first chapter. Ahhh. . . now it all ties in. And I interpret the Tolkien's "third finger" as the middle finger, so here Frodo's middle finger was bitten off of his right hand by Gollum inside Mt. Doom.

Frodo rapped lightly on the door. It was answered by Poppy in a pretty red frock and a hurry. 'Oh, hello, Mr. Baggins! Granddad's in his study. I'll call him, and he'll just be a minute, but in the meanwhile would you like some tea?' Poppy offered forgetting her rush.

'No, actually, thank you, but I've come to see Lily,' Frodo just barely managed.

'Oh!' said Poppy quite surprised. 'Just one moment then,' and she rushed off.

In the next moment, as promised, Lily appeared in the front room, three sisters in tow. 'Well, hello, Frodo. We weren't expecting you. What brings you here on such a fine day?'

'Why the fine day itself brings me, Lily. I noticed the wonderful weather myself and thought of going for a walk. Well, Sam is busy with Rosie and Merry and Pippin are nowhere to be found, so I am with out a companion and thought you might like to join me.' Frodo finished finally drawing breath.

Lily smiled. 'Well I would, but I really should help Mother. There's cooking and cleaning and you know Tom, always getting into trouble.'

'Well, of course you should go,' Poppy interjected. 'It _is_ a beautiful day, after all, and we wouldn't want Mr. Baggins to have to walk alone, now would we? Besides, I can keep Tom out of trouble.'

'And I can help with the cooking,' added Mari.

'And I with the cleaning,' put in the third sister, Bella, after a nudge from Poppy.

'Well there you have it,' Frodo said smiling. 'It seems you're free.'

'Then I suppose I _shall_ join you,' said Lily and she took the hand he extended and followed him out the door with a backward glance at her mischievous sisters.

Once firmly on the road and quite alone, Frodo spoke. 'So Sam has told me you like to hear stories.'

'That I do,' responded Lily.

'About me,' Frodo finished.

Lily nearly tripped at his words, a rare thing for a hobbit to do, but she grabbed Frodo's arm, and he caught her about the waist. He set her on her feet and curtly she said, 'Thank you.'

'I'm sorry to have been so blunt. I wouldn't have if I'd have known it would startle you so.' Frodo said as they began walking again.

'It's. . . it's fine,' said Lily after regaining her composure. 'I suppose I do like to hear stories about you. I mean, you can hear plenty of stories about Sam in town and plenty about the other two, Merry and Pippin, but no one ever tells stories about you, except Sam, that is, when I ask him. And you were off with them so I just wondered. . .' Lily shrugged.

'I see,' said Frodo. It was quite a plausible explanation, and he now felt a fool for bringing it up.

'Do you mind?' Lily asked, a bit concerned.

'Hmmm. . . ?'Frodo responded, now a tad flustered. 'Oh, no. I don't mind. I just wondered why you'd want to hear stories about _me_ when the others have stories that are far more interesting.'

'Oh, I don't think so,' insisted Lily, 'and besides that, I don't know the others save Sam, and he doesn't have many stories that don't have you in them at some point. And-- oh never mind. I like the stories anyways.'

They were well out in the fields now and Frodo was glad of it. The talk was getting. . . oh, shall we say, interesting. 'And what?' Frodo encouraged her, turning to catch her gaze eye to eye. He stopped walking.

'And. . . You know back in Blotmath, when you first returned? Well, I saw you all conversing and, sure, the others made the plan and fought and all, but I saw the way they looked at you, Frodo, the way they still do from time to time. When you spoke, they listened and whatever you said they obeyed. It's still that way, I think. Frodo, I'm not dim. You were their leader. You were the most important. You did something. . . big, for lack of a better term, something important. Something. . .' and she paused for emphasis, 'that had to do with. . .' and she took his right hand, but did not finish the thought in words. Instead she merely continued, 'But no one else sees that. And you don't mind. That's why. That's why I wanted to know about you because the others, they embrace it, they flaunt it even, but you. . . you hide it. Because you did something wonderful and yet. . . it changed you, whatever it was. And now you're. . .' Lily trailed off, lacking the words to finish.

'I'm what?' Frodo asked softly.

'Marvelous,' she whispered and then, 'I don't know. You're you and. . . I just wanted to know who that is,' she finished.

'Oh,' said Frodo as he began to walk again. 'Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you won't find me in any of the stories Sam tells you.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing, really, just that his stories are. . . harmless.'

'Well, I think I know a bit about you already,' bragged Lily jokingly.

'Is that so?' Frodo asked, quite amused.

'Yes. Like. . . you had a ring and now you don't. And there were things after you, and they hurt you, stabbed you and--' Frodo froze. '--so I think maybe, since you don't have the ring anymore and you're finger's. . . well, I think maybe that was what they were after, the. . . things.' Frodo didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stood, waiting for some force that would never come. 'Frodo? What's wrong?' Lily asked.

'How do you know that?' Frodo asked suddenly.

'What?'

'That I was stabbed. How do you know that I was stabbed?' he demanded.

'Well, Sam told me. He mentioned it once in a story. I--' Lily was cut off.

'I have to go,' said Frodo as he took off at a run back the way they had come.

A/N: Please review!


	7. The Stone in the Road

A/N: Every long chapter must be followed by a short chapter

A/N: Smial is the technical term for hobbit hole.

'Sam?! Sam?!' Frodo yelled through the smial.

'I'm here, Mr. Frodo. What's the matter?' said Sam as he emerged through the doorway.

'You told her about Weathertop?!' Frodo yelled.

'I only mentioned it, only said you were stabbed once and that's why we went to see the elves, sir,' Sam tried in defense.

'You said nothing serious. Well, Sam, this is serious. She's smart. She figured out about it, Sam. She knows about the _Ring_!'

'I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, but, see, the Ring is gone now an' it ain't comin' back, so what does it matter if she knows about it. So what?' Frodo did not respond immediately, and Sam perceived a piece of truth inside him. 'Yer still afraid of it, aren't you? You're still afraid it'll come back an' undo everythin', aren't you, Mr. Frodo?'

'No, Sam,' Frodo denied. 'Look, Sam, I just don't want her knowing about all that, the Ring and such, the evil.'

'Alright,' said Sam. 'I honestly am sorry.' Then he grinned.

'What?' Frodo asked, slightly annoyed.

'You don't wan' 'er knowin' about the evil.'

'Oh, now, Sam.'

'So when you asked 'er about it -- the stories an' all -- what 'appened? I'm assumin' y' asked 'er about it?' Sam prodded.

'Yes,' Frodo answered slowly.

'An' what 'appened?' asked Sam, the same smirk still upon his face and growing bigger every second, masking the fear that lay behind it, the fear for his master, his friend.

'There was a stone in the road,' Frodo tried, inexpertly avoiding the question.

'What?' Sam asked now honestly confused.

'She tripped.'

A/N: I know you're getting tired of reading this, but review please!


	8. Tea Time at the Cottage

When Lily entered her house she found her mother and sisters conversing in the kitchen over tea

When Lily entered her house she found her mother and sisters conversing in the kitchen over tea. 'And where have you been?' asked her elder sister Peony. 'I left Merimon with little Prisco and came over to visit and found you off with some odd company.'

'Frodo Baggins is not odd company,' Lily said indignantly. 'He's a family friend.'

'But more friendly to some than to others,' put in Poppy, and she and Mari began to laugh hysterically.

When the laughter had subsided enough that she could be heard, Bella threw her two pence in as well. 'I, for one, think it's odd. He's nearly old enough to be my _father_ and he _is_ old enough to be Mari's.'

'Well, _I _think it's lovely,' contradicted Peony, 'and besides, Lily _is_ twelve years your senior and _seventeen_ years older than Mari.'

'Still,' Bella commented quietly, a touch of disgust in her voice.

'Well I agree with Peony,' said Poppy. 'It's lovely.' And Mari nodded her assent.

'So long as we go into this warily,' added Susan, 'I think it's a fine idea.'

'Well it doesn't matter what any of you think about it. It doesn't exist!' exclaimed Lily angrily.

'Oh, posh, Lily. He asked you out walking, and you were gone some time, I must say,' remarked Peony.

'Yes. And he got angry and ran away and left me in the middle of a wheat field!' Lily exclaimed again, this time not waiting for comments, but running off to her room, leaving her sisters wide-eyes and slack-jawed. Susan, however, just continued to sip her tea.

A/N: So, now, just so no one is confused, The siblings go: Peony, 36; Tilman/Tim, 34; Lily, 33; Poppy, 26; Halfred/Hal, 23; Bella, 21; Tolman/Tom, 17; and Mari, 16. We haven't heard from Tim or Hal yet, though. Also, Merimon Burrows is Peony's husband and Prisco is their son. . . Review please!


	9. Miss Penny Bracegirdle

It was then, when Lily'd jarringly shut the door to her room, that she'd realized that she had held some hope at least that Frodo Baggins was interested in her

It was then, when Lily'd jarringly shut the door to her room, that she'd realized that she _had_ held some hope at least that Frodo Baggins was interested in her. Though she still maintained that she felt nothing for him herself, it had cheered her to think that she might be the object of someone's affections. When she'd found him at the door, she'd found her heart filled with warmth. She had been crushed to find him fleeing her. And so she'd resolved to call on him the next day to win back the affection she'd so suddenly lost.

Now, standing in front of the gate to Bag End, Lily's confidence faltered. She felt small before the grand smial, for although she'd been brought up in a good home with many fine things, it was in no way as grand as the home which stood before her. And although she'd been brought up in the company of many visiting. . . dignitaries of sorts and had even once been with her grandfather to Bree, she'd never been on a grand quest or done anything of any real importance. As she stood in front of the white picket fence with the gate slightly ajar, she began to wonder what she'd been thinking coming here to speak to such a very grand hobbit and win back affections which she neither returned nor deserved.

She was about to turn away dejectedly and kick herself for acting like Poppy when she heard a movement in the bushes and out popped Sam with a large, green weed in his hand. 'Hah! Gotcha!' he said triumphantly to the weed before noticing the visitor. 'Oh! Hullo, Miss Lily. What can I do for ya? I'm afraid I'm a bit busy for stories just now but if there's somethin' else. . . Rosie's inside and I'm sure she'd love a visitor.'

'Actually, Sam, I've come to call on Frodo. He ran off rather suddenly yesterday and I came by to see if anything was the matter,' Lily explained falsely.

'Well, I'm afraid he's not at 'ome. He went out on business, 'e did, 'round twelve o'clock.'

'Alright then,' Lily sighed. 'Give him my regards, would you?'

'O' course.' And Lily stepped back from the gate and ambled down the road towards home.

It was a good distance to the Boffin house, and Lily was glad of it, for it gave her some time to mull over her situation. But in trying to mull she found herself only obsessing about the hypocrisy she had just shown. After telling Poppy there was nothing true in her gossip, she'd gone out and tried to find truth. And after scolding Poppy for her busybody, romancentric ways, she'd gone out seeking affection when intending to give none. She was being such a silly girl getting caught up in talk. She was grown now; she was supposed to have grown out of that. Sure, some people never do, but she wasn't one of them. Was she? And then she suddenly felt her heart jump into her throat inexplicably.

Just down the road she could see the home of Miss Penny Bracegirdle, a pretty maid and, at thirty-seven, just a year older than Peony. The two had been quite close as girls. Miss Penny Bracegirdle was engaged to be married to Mr. Samsodoc Brandybuck, but even so it somehow stung horribly when Lily, from her position on the road, watched first Penny and then dear Frodo himself emerge from the quaint little home. Frodo smiled and chatted brightly with Penny who smiled and chatted back in the same manner. Lily stopped walking and simply stood on the road, mixed expressions playing across her pretty face. There was a horror inside her and a panic, though she knew not what they were. She was forced to swallow the hard lump in her throat that was her heart when Frodo, having said his goodbyes and turned to walk up the road, spotted her and waved.

Lily raised her hand to wave back but found it shaking and clutched it to her side instead. She moved to walk forward and greet him but thought better of it as she felt her knees go week. And so she was left to stand meekly and wait until Frodo approached her. Luckily, he did this post haste and was soon standing in front of her greeting her kindly. 'I'm sorry I ran off yesterday. I was just-- I had to go,' he apologized vaguely. When Lily only nodded he asked, 'Are you. . . angry? Or . . . is something wrong?'

'Oh, no,' Lily managed.

'Alright, well. . . I'm on my way to Prumilla Bolger's -- some complaint about cattle in her garden -- but if you're going that way. . .' Frodo offered quietly.

'Oh, no,' lied Lily. 'I'm not. I'm going in the exact opposite direction, actually.'

'Well then, good day, Lily,' said Frodo as he walked off the way he had come.

Lily waited a few minutes before following Frodo's path slowly. After a few paces she paused, now standing in front of Penny's cottage. Penny stood out front sweeping the walk. 'Oh, Lily, how are you? Well, I hope. I saw you speaking to Mr. Baggins. He's such a nice hobbit isn't he? Pity about his upbringing, you know, with his parents and all and then that cracked old Bilbo. But his little sabbatical seems to have turned him quite around, eh? Would you care to come in for tea? We could catch up some more. I feel I haven't seen you in ages. I've been so very busy with the wedding plans and all. And now you're all grown up and making some plans of your own I suppose. Is there a certain someone, eh? Or, well, you're only just of age, so maybe not, but a pretty little thing like yourself, surely there's someone--? Lily? Lily?' Penny called after her as she sprinted down the road towards home.

Lily ran so fast she overtook Frodo on his errand, and did not miss a step when he called after her. Little did she know, he began to run behind her. Oblivious as she was, she ran straight into her house and then into her room, slamming the door behind her. Her face was streaked with tears, but she was no longer crying. Now a look of epiphany rested there.

A/N: I'll mix it up: Please review!


	10. The Flood in the Front Room

The windows were open and a warm summer breeze billowed through the curtains

The windows were open and a warm summer breeze billowed through the curtains. The scent of new summer blooms floated through the house. Bella was reclining in the sitting room, drawing in hand, when the twister came through the corridor. The door slammed and a muffled cry seemed to press through the curtains on the sudden flood of wind. Steps came quick and heavy through the hall and Bella rose to investigate as another door fell loudly shut. She stepped cautiously out of the safety of the living room and peered down the hall in the direction the steps had run. She was about to follow the invisible footsteps when she heard a knock at the front door. When she reached the front room she found Poppy and Mari already there, joined at the hip as always and staring slack jawed down the hall.

'Well, get the door!' Bella insisted, taking on the motherly role for her mischievous sisters. But before they could obey, she rushed forward and opened the door herself to see the face of a quite breathless Frodo Baggins. 'Why, Mr. Baggins, I--!'

'Where's Lily?' he cut her off, forsaking common courtesy.

'I don't know. I--'

'Is she alright?' he interrupted again.

'Mr. Baggins, I haven't--'

'Bella, is Lily alright?!' he asked again forcefully, pushing past her into the front room.

'I'm trying to explain. I--'

'Why wouldn't she be?' Poppy interjected quickly.

'What happened?' Mari finished the thought.

'I don't know; that's why I'm asking you. Now, where is she?' he pressed.

'She went--' and Poppy and Mari pointed as one before going slack-jawed once again.

Bella stood in front of the corridor, arms crossed firmly across her chest. 'If Lily's upset, Mr. Baggins, I think it best that you go.' Bella stated her first full sentence of the conversation with conviction and once again in that motherly tone. It seemed not to matter at all to her that she was but a child and Frodo a grown hobbit twice her age and in god standing as far as standings go. 'The last thing she needs is strange company,' she said and Frodo finally paused in his quest, his breath still coming shortly. He looked queerly at Bella as though she had done something quite odd and completely unexpected, which was the perfect response since she had. Then his eyes shifted focus.

There was a quick silence before the words cut the air. 'Frodo is _not_ strange company.'

Bella spun on her heals. 'Lily!' But there was nothing more for her to say ot the older sister, so she only stood meekly in the doorway as Lily stepped forward confidently, feet completely silent now. Her hair was a mess, curls tumbling every which way. Her dress was rumpled and torn at the hem where it had caught on a low-hanging branch. Her feet were caked with mud from her shortcut through the garden. But she was calm and poised and beautiful. She strode forward with purpose and determination, and for a few brief moments no one could take his eyes off her. And then the spell was broken.

Lily walked straight up to Frodo completely ignoring Bella as she stood in the doorway and, in one quick motion, set her hands to his cheeks and her lips to his mouth. A shriek escaped Mari's lips, but Poppy only stood in admiration. Bella looked as though she might faint. The door opened and Susan rushed in hurriedly from her work in the garden. 'I heard a scream. What's--?' And then she saw. There stood her young daughter molded into the arms of Mr. Baggins, far too close for comfort. In her momentary astonishment, Susan dropped her watering can. A thin layer of water spread over the floor of the room.

Though the shock of the water at their feet did not break up the pair standing in the centre of the room, Mrs. Boffin did. She pushed dear Frodo straight out the door, smacking him with her gloves as she did, and slammed the door in his face. Then, she grabbed Lily by the elbow, leading her towards the kitchen. Before they rounded the corner she turned to Poppy and Mari where they stood still giggling and, motioning to the floor, ordered, 'Clean this up.'

A/N: Please review!


	11. Tea Time in the Smial

The door to Bag End shut heavily and Sam made his way to the kitchen for tea

The door to Bag End shut heavily and Sam made his way to the kitchen for tea. He settled into his seat and let Rosie pour him some tea and set a few little cakes in front of him. He greeted his wife and his friend sitting next to him and took a sip of his tea, sighing in approval. Then he noticed. 'Mr. Frodo, is something wrong?' he asked concerned.

'No, Sam. I'm fine, thank you,' Frodo responded quietly, blowing on a spoonful of tea to cool it down.

Sam glanced up at Rosie and she nodded, wiped her hands off on a towel, and quietly left the room. Sam took another sip of his tea and then, setting the cup down lightly on its saucer, turned to fully face his troubled companion. 'Now, Mr. Frodo. Ya can't fool me, ya know. I've known ya forever, worked with ya, traveled with ya.--' and by this he meant into the mountain '--Somethin's wrong an' I wan' to 'ear it, so out with it!'

'It's not that I want to trick you, Sam,' Frodo said in a melancholy tone, not taking his eyes from their resting place on the teacup he was absent-mindedly fingering. 'It's that I've nothing to say about it. I'm. . . still trying to figure it all out.'

'But _what_ are ya tryin' ta figure out, Mr. Frodo. Tell me; I can 'elp. That's what I'm 'ere for,' Sam urged.

'I'd rather not, Sam,' Frodo said, and that was all he said for the rest of the night and half of the next day. He crawled inside his own head and refused to come out. That is, until Sam forced him to.

'Alright, Mr. Frodo, sir,' Sam said, for once authoritatively, as he stood at the entrance to the study, 'I've 'ad quite enough of this. You're goin' ta tell me what's goin' on, an' you're goin' ta tell me now. Ya can't just sit in 'ere all day and sulk.'

To Sam's surprise, Frodo did not put up the slightest fight. He merely said, 'It's Lily.' Sam approached his friend, quieted now not by Frodo's words but by the emotion behind them. He set his right hand on the table and touched the side of the old map Frodo was staring at. Then he waited. He knew an explanation would come. . . if he was patient. Frodo took a deep breath before looking up at Sam and simply stated, 'She kissed me.'

'You kissed 'er?! Frodo, what were you thinkin'?! I said to consider it not t' go kissin' 'er!' Sam tugged at his hair in frustration. Frodo said nothing. 'Well!' Sam continued. 'What 'appened next?' Frodo only went back to staring at the map on the table. 'Well, did anyone see ya?' This time, at Frodo's silence Sam spun out of control. 'Tell me what's 'appened! We 'ave ta do somethin' or it'll be all over town! Frodo! What's goin' on?!'

Frodo looked up at Sam again, making sure to catch his gaze. 'Sam,' he said slowly, firmly, '_she_ kissed _me_.' Now it was Sam's turn to take a stab at silence. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but then closed it again almost immediately. Now that he knew he had Sam's attention, he told his friend what he wanted to know. 'I spoke with her on the road and she was a little odd, but then I was walking along on my way to Prumilla Bolger's, and she came flying past me in a tizzy. So, I ran after her to see what was the matter. When we reached her house she slammed the door shut in my face and her sisters answered when I knocked. I was trying to figure out what had happened when she came out, walked straight up to me, and kissed me. Then Susan came in and . . . showed me out.'

'She kissed you?' Sam stuttered. Frodo nodded. 'Then what's yer problem?' Frodo shook his head. 'I mean, people may talk. They'll think what they want; they always do, but tha's never bothered you before. And the other girls'll set Mrs. Boffin straight. As long as it's not true, y' know. . .' Frodo continued to shake his head. 'Well, what is it then?' Sam asked anxiously.

Frodo looked towards the study door at the slight knock that Rosie placed there. 'Tea time,' she said with a bright, sunny smile.

A/N: R&R!


	12. The Stratification of Hobbiton

Lily stood in the kitchen with her mother pacing before her

Lily stood in the kitchen with her mother pacing before her. '_You're_ telling me that _you_ kissed Mr. Baggins?'

'Yes,' Lily stated calmly.

'Oh, don't protect that imprudent scoundrel! I've said he's odd since the first and now I've something else to say!' Lily simply stood her ground. 'Poppy, Mari, Bella!' Mrs. Boffin called her daughters in from the other room where they were obviously eavesdropping.

'It's true,' Poppy nearly bragged.

'Quite,' agreed Mari.

'I'd not believe it if I hadn't seen it myself,' Bella concurred.

Mrs. Boffin opened her mouth slightly as if to speak and turned to Lily, eyes wide with wonder. She made a sudden movement, and a moment later Lily found her head turned away and her cheek stinging. She kept her mouth shut, however, lips pursed indignantly. He mother had hit her only once before, when she had stolen a chocolate from the confectionery at twelve. Even then it hadn't been hard, just enough to keep her from repeating the act. Now, however, Lily knew from the burning feeling there that her cheek was red as a summer strawberry and would be for a while. Lily turned her face back to her mother and looked her in the eye, waiting for the inevitable chastisement.

Mrs. Boffin turned away from her impassioned daughter and leaned against the counter. She sighed and massaged her temples as though her head ached. 'Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with you girls,' she said after a time. She turned around once again to face Lily. 'I would never have expected _this_, not from you, not even from _Poppy_.' She sighed again. In her time, Susan Boffin had seen many things and she considered herself to be a fairly modern-thinking hobbit. But her second daughter _kissing_ anyone out of the blue like that, let alone Mr. Baggins, was a concept her mind could barely comprehend.

She turned to her younger daughters and shooed them away with a flick of her wrist, knowing full well that at least one of them would stay to eavesdrop at the door, but having neither the strength nor the words to stop it, though she dearly wanted to. What she was about to say was not a thing she had ever planned on telling her daughters. And telling one would be bad enough.

'Lily,' Mrs. Boffin began hesitantly. 'Lily, you must understand. Not everything is as simple as it seems. Besides the fact that what you did was unbelievably imprudent and improper--' She searched for the words to tell her daughter the news that would invariably break her heart, to tell her that this young love, however real it might feel, was not true, could never really be. 'Lily, you've always had everything you've ever needed or wanted and more, no? We're not farmers, Boffins, but we're not Bagginses either. Lily, what you have to understand is. . . you could never marry Mr. Baggins,' she sighed, turning away from her daughter, who was more confused now than devastated. 'Why do you think we live with your grandfather, Lily?' Lily did not respond but simply cast her gaze to the floor. 'Things have been hard, Lily, since your father died. The truth is, we put on airs. I can't give you a dowry, Lily, of any respectable size. You have to believe I'd do anything I could to see you happy, but there's nothing I _can_ do.'

Lily stood motionless in the middle of the room, drinking in her mother's words. They made her dizzy, made her head spin, made her think she might collapse. It felt like she imagined it would feel to drink alcohol, a lot of alcohol. But she didn't collapse. She merely stood, hands limp at her sides, lips parted as if to better hear that way, eyes half closed as if she stood in a trance that might never be broken.

'There are unwritten social rules,' Mrs. Boffin continued, 'that guide our lives. I moved us here and did what I did because I never wanted you working in one of those filthy pubs. I never wanted you to have that life. I had it all planned out. . . and then Sharkey came. After everything that happened. . . with your grandfather and all. . . Lily, there's nothing left. We may as well be farmers now.'

Mrs. Boffin stopped her pacing and stood in front of her daughter, hands clasped before her. 'All we have now is a name, Lily,' she intoned sternly. 'There is no room for error. What you've done may well cost us that. And besides all that, Frodo Baggins is cracked straight through. The only reason I put up with him is because he works with your grandfather.' Mrs. Boffin was through with soul-bearing truth and had reverted straight back to her customary airs.

A/N: R&R!


	13. Merit and Peanut Butter

'I don't know about this,' Frodo said timidly after Rosie had left the room

'I don't know about this,' Frodo said timidly after Rosie had left the room. The call to tea meant the conversation would be short and for that he was grateful. The time had been when he'd not have spared a moment for his inhibitions. He'd been bold and hadn't cared that the talk was he was cracking, but he'd had enough of courage and bravery, enough of adventure and unbeaten roads. He'd complete his favor to Will. He'd fake it all until midsummer. Then all he wanted to do was fade, fade into a corner where no one would see him or bother him, a silent corner where he could finish his book.

The thought stuck firmly in his head, like peanut butter. He was so very like Bilbo when he thought about it, and yet so very different from him. They'd been so very alike even before, but there was that one defining factor that set them apart from the rest, and, simultaneously, apart from each other. It should bring them together to know that they among all the world had borne that evil and survived, but deep inside, Frodo felt that horrid pull. It was not true. He had not survived. When it had come down to it, evil had consumed him and it was only by pure luck that he had emerged some fraction of what he had been.

In the light of the setting sun, Frodo watched the face of his dearest friend intently, knowing that no matter how many stories he told, he would never tell that one. Never let out the evil that had consumed his master, his friend. He stood before Sam, who had done so much and received so very little, thinking then that he should write the end. For he, who had taken evil willingly, knowingly, to save his friend, to save all free peoples, and he alone would know how it would end. He stood before his friend and remembered Cormallen and might've wept for the praise that he didn't deserve. And that was why he had to fade away.

Then Frodo's mind snapped quickly back to the present as he heard the hero speak, 'But whyever not?'

'Let's go. It's tea time,' Frodo said, pointedly avoiding the question.

'But, Mr. Frodo--'

'Let's go, Sam, or it'll get cold.'

'Alright, alright,' said Sam, moving off towards the kitchen. 'She's a nice girl, though,' Sam commented to Frodo over his shoulder.

'I know, Sam,' Frodo agreed.

'Good family,' he commented again.

'I know, Sam,' Frodo repeated.

'Good match all around, really,' Sam continued almost as if to himself.

'Sam, stop! This is ridiculous. I don't deserve it!' Frodo stopped abruptly, realizing inside what Sam would soon voice.

'What don't you deserve, Mr. Frodo?' Sam asked simply. He paused to consider before continuing, 'This?--' and he gestured slightly with his arms '--or 'er?' Frodo gulped down his inhibitions, knowing Sam was right, and finally risked facing life.

A/N: Please review!


	14. Persuasion

It was late and thoroughly dark even with the lengthening days when Frodo stepped into the pub

It was late and thoroughly dark even with the lengthening days when Frodo stepped into the pub. It had been a long day and he needed a drink to sharpen his spirits. The rowdy company of _The Green Dragon_ was not the best he could have wished for and yet far better than nagging Sam at home. He scanned the pub for a sober face and, finding none, figured he might as well begin drowning his sorrows alone. . . if he could find a spot to be alone. He ordered a pint from the counter and began questing for a lonely corner. A year earlier he was questing for freedom, now all that mattered to him was a dark place to sit alone and drink, he thought with an inward smirk. Unfortunately, the bar was unusually crowded that night and, oddly, surprisingly well-lit. Frodo was beginning to think of returning home when a slight bump as he turned around caused him to spill his pint all down his shirt. The bar-wench turned to apologize, but was caught off guard by some unknown shock. Then Frodo looked up at the maid and found what that shock must have been. 'Lily?!' he exclaimed dropping the half-empty mug he'd been holding and completely forgetting his shirt.

'Mr. Baggins!' Lily only just caught the mug one of the patrons slid her way.

'Lily, what are you doing here?!' Frodo yelled over the din of the crowd.

The patron who'd slid the glass down now yelled for her to hurry up and fill it. 'I'm working,' Lily stated curtly and strode briskly off to the counter to pour the drink.

Frodo was close behind her. 'Lily,' he tried, but she stepped away again, having filled the mug. She passed it back to the patron and turned to run off to other chores, but Frodo momentarily grasped her shoulders. 'Lily, why are you working here? What's going on?'

'I'm working here because I have to, Mr. Baggins; now may I pour you another drink?'

'M-Mr. Baggins? Lily you just--' Lily shut her eyes and gasped loudly. The drunken patrons were jeering, calling her name, crossing the line. Frodo saw her face and immediately knew which line they'd crossed. One rather bulky hobbit, slightly more inebriated than the rest and the same one who had caused Lily's humiliated gasp, stood, or rather wobbled, threw his arm around the prideful girl and drew her tightly to him. 'Hey, now, Tom!' Frodo called to the older hobbit. 'Off her! Straight away!' Tom laughed and leered a bit closer, but then obediently backed away.

Lily felt herself choking on the abhorrent stench of Tom's breath. She felt his hand slide away, but before it did, felt it slide down. She heard Frodo's voice cut through the fog of smoke and suffocating liquor. Frodo's arm was around her waist, the other at her wrist, guiding her away from the hooligans. And then she stole her pride back. 'Let go of me!' she yelled back at him, wrenching her arm away. She marched straight back to the table she'd been serving, grabbed one of the patrons' pints, and downed the entire thing in one swig. A cheer rose in the background as she slammed the pint on the table and yelled, 'Don't you pity me, _Mister_ Baggins! An' don' you come after me neither. _This_--' She spun around but had to grasp the table for support. '--is where I belong!' And the cheer rose all the louder, accompanied by toasting and much, much more drinking. One of the younger hobbits climbed up the table and began a lively song. Lily, with some help from her new friends, decidedly clambered up onto the table to dance with the singer, a new pint already in hand.

Frodo stood petrified before the scene. He could not breathe; he could not move. His Lily? Dancing with Young Sandy on a table with a pint? _His_ Lily? He simply stood staring until the cup flowed over, the drink became too much. Then the revelry began to turn violent. There was pushing and shoving and most of all pulling, pulling on Lily, pulling her down. He rushed to her side and stepped up on a bench. She was oblivious as he grasped her waist and pulled her down, thinking him just another hobbit male vying for her attention, but when he lifted her up into his arms, a slight shriek escaped her lips. He paid no heed to that, however, and simply carried her straight out through the back door, the front being blocked by a growing brawl. Now he had her, he would _not_ let her go. His Lily would _never_ go through that again, _never dance_ on tables, never be touched like that again. _Never_, unless it was by him.

A/N: R&R!


	15. Behind The Green Dragon

In the straw of the barn behind the Dragon, Lily slept like the dead

In the straw of the barn behind the _Dragon_, Lily slept like the dead. The raucous of the moments before had died away and was only remembered by the far-off din of the fight still raging at the front. 'We've not even a name anymore. I've ruined that already,' she'd said as she'd pinned him to the wall, pinned him and kissed him, hard and long if in amateur style. But then she'd wept. The liquor had begun to wear off and she'd cried not for her actions but more for her fears. She'd collapsed in the hay, and he'd held her and rocked her until she'd fallen into her coma-like sleep, the sleep of death he'd known would follow.

Now Frodo sat with his Lily, gently stroking the hair back from her pretty face as she lay in his lap. He'd been sitting like this for an hour waiting for the drunken flock of hobbits to disperse. He now realized he'd have to sit a lot longer if he continued to wait for that. So slowly, gingerly, he shifted his Lily's head onto a pillow of straw and lay down beside her, nose to nose. He ran a hand down her cheek and then slightly recoiled, realizing which hand it was: his right.

And there it was again, barging in where it didn't belong. And he realized then, as he always did at such times, that it would always be there. He might've regretted what he'd lost, might've cursed the freedom gained if not for the crash and sudden snarling chuckle that came from the doorway. Frodo's heart wrenched as his Lily stirred a bit and then settled back into sleep. He rolled away from her reluctantly onto his back and stood to face the intruder. 'Sandy,' he stated flatly to the miller's son.

'Snuggling?' Sandy mocked drunkenly.

'Go home, Sandy,' Frodo warned taking a step closer to the intruder.

Big, dark eyes stared him down defiantly. 'What if I don't?' Sandy stepped right up to his opponent. 'Are _you_ gonna make me? Are _you_ gonna _protect her_?' And then he buried his hand in Frodo's face.

Frodo ignored the shocking pain and, once his eyes cleared, reiterated, 'I'm telling you, Sandy. Go home.'

Sandy resumed his sick chuckling and mocked, 'Poor bleedin' Frodo. Can' even protect a li'l girl, can' even fight back. What's wrong li'l Frodo? Wha's wrong?'

'Go home,' was Frodo's only response.

'Go 'ome?' Sandy chuckled. 'Go 'ome? Well I can' go 'ome. I couldn' leave such a pretty girl just a-lyin' there. I 'ave ta take care of 'er. Someone 'as to, and you obviously can't. It's plain she needs me, plain she needs--' but the wind was gone out of him, and he couldn't finish. A sharp blow to the face finished the job and Sandy, big drunken bloke that he was, came crashing down, upsetting the straw.

Frodo turned back to his Lily. Her eyes were open just a crack, and he hurriedly approached. 'Frodo?' she half begged.

He rushed forward the rest of the distance separating them and gathered his Lily in his arms, her tone distressing him far too much for him to think of anything but relieving her sorrow. He held her head against his chest and kissed the top of it. 'I'm here,' was all he could think to say. He felt her hand against his chest, felt her fingers grip his shirt. He loosed his hold on her head, and she looked up at him sadly.

'You're bleeding!' she exclaimed with a gasp.

He touched the blood under his nose and glanced at his reddened finger, but merely shrugged and said, 'Never mind that now,' and quickly wiped the blood away. 'Are _you_ alright?' His Lily nodded slightly and looked down, tracing a button on his shirt with her finger. A quick intake of breath found him reeling at the feel of her fingers lightly lingering on his lapel. 'Marry me.'

Lily was taken aback. '_Mr. Baggins!_ You must be mistaken!'

'I'm not, Lily! I'm not!' Frodo said ardently, clutching her shoulders and holding her back from him so their eyes met. He was grinning widely and looked a bit less than sane. 'Lily, I love you. I-- I love you! I want to marry you.--'

'Mr. Baggins--'

'Please, Lily, listen! I'm serious.'

'Mr. Baggins!'

'Frodo.'

'What?'

'Not Mr. Baggins. Never Mr. Baggins. I couldn't stand it, Lily, if that was all I was to you, the odd hobbit from the Hill, Mr. Baggins, Mad Baggins. Frodo, Lily, Frodo,--' He gestured to himself. '--and I'm in--'

'Mr. Baggins, you don't know what you're saying. You must've been hit harder than you thought.'

'No, Lily.' His smile faded. 'No.' He brought her close to him again and carefully tucked a curly lock back into its place. 'I--' He paused to make her look him in the eye, cupping her cheek in his left hand, his good hand. '--love you.' Lily looked so sad and small, it broke his heart. Why was she so sad?

'Mr. Baggins, I can't. It's not possible,' Lily again protested, again cut him with her sword-like tongue.

'Of course it is, Lily,' he said softly. 'What are you--?'

'We have no money.' Lily abruptly pulled away from him. Her head spun and she clutched it tightly, waving away the hand Frodo reached out to steady her.

'What are you going on about?'

'It's gone. It's all gone. Since Sharkey-- Since Saruman. . .' She corrected herself, for Lily had learned that much from Sam at least. '. . .It's gone.' The thought dropped off in a whisper. Lily shook her head, but slowly and still with a hand to her temple.

Frodo furrowed his eyebrow and nearly laughed, 'Lily, that's--'

'Please, don't--' she stopped him.

'Lily--'

'Mr. Baggins, I've no dowry. Nothing. . . I must go.'

'Frodo.' Lily shook her aching head once again. She tried to stand only to fall back against her diligent protector. He turned Lily to face him, his Lily who seemed to be slipping through his fingers. 'I don't care. You should know I don't care at all about any of that. I have money, Lily. Don't you see, I have plenty.' She shook her head and pushed away from him, steadying herself on a nearby beam. 'Lily, why are you doing this?'

Lily turned back towards him, and Frodo could see that she was crying. She tried to smile a little at him through the tears, but barely managed for a second. She could taste the salt in her mouth, could feel it stiff on her cheeks in dried rivulets. It was only because she loved him, but could she tell him that? Lily turned away again and made her way out into the deep night.

Two steps out the door, Lily turned round the side of the barn and collapsed in a dizzy heap against the wall. How could it be? How could it be that she was walking away from. . . from love? And why? Because of a lack of a dowry that he didn't even care about? But she had to; she had to. Her head was spinning faster and faster. She raised her knees to her chest and lay her head down in her arms atop them. There were a few slow moments before the world faded and grayed, and then all went black.

Frodo sat numbly in the hay for an indeterminate space of time, great, heavy, grey time. When at last he rose, it was that misty time between night and morning when the stars and sun change shifts. The air was thin as he exited the barn, as though he was very high up, yet it sat densely on his shoulders and clung heavily to his clothes. He nearly tripped over the foot of the girl who lay against the side of the barn, his Lily's foot. He dropped to his knees at her side upon this realization. Had she been sitting here all this time? Of course she had. He should have followed her, he should have looked after her. He silently cursed his lapse in judgment before once again gathering his Lily to him and lifting her up into his arms. He couldn't take her home, not like this. He couldn't let them see her this way. It was only a short walk up to Bag End. He'd send word at sunup.

A/N: Review please!


	16. Morning, Only Just Bloomed

The dawn light wafted warmly through the southern-facing window lightly caressing Frodo as he lay unmoving in the great, feathery bed

The dawn light wafted warmly through the southern-facing window lightly caressing Frodo as he lay unmoving in the great, feathery bed. July had been cool thus far, cooler than most, at least, and Frodo relished it. August, he knew, would find him holed up in his study with drawn curtains to keep out the beating sun. A knock came at the door, and Frodo just made out Sam's voice, a mumble as it entered through the heavy, oak door. 'Coming to breakfast, Mr. Frodo?' he asked as usual.

Frodo sat up and turned the clock that lived next to his bed so he could see the time: 8:17. 'In a moment, Sam,' he said in the far-off tone that had once again become his default. He rose from the soft comfort of his bed to greet the daily trials of what was his life. Rummaging through the wardrobe, he found a modest shirt and pair of trousers to wear out to the kitchen. Breakfast would, as usual, take a good hour, being, of course, the most important meal of the day. After that there'd be just time for Frodo to come back to his room and make himself presentable before. . . before _she_ arrived.

His love, he knew, would make no comment on his appearance one way or another as long as it was he standing before her, but he himself desperately needed to look his best for her nonetheless. As he shut the drawer in which his shirts resided, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye: a pink lily, only just bloomed, sitting in a tall, crystal vase, his precious lily, his only treasure, only hope, only redemption, and the only lily he could ever keep.

_Morning was fully bloomed, but it was dark in the room. Frodo had shut the curtains tightly against the light he feared would disturb his Lily as she slept. Now he sat on the window seat, knees clutched to chest, head leaned against the draperies, waiting for his Lily to need him. He might wait forever and to no avail, he thought depressingly, but he would wait nevertheless. He stared blankly at the wall next to the window, inspecting every nuance and imperfection. Lily stirred quietly and awoke just enough to feel the alien bedding around her. Her eyes started open, momentarily inspecting the ceiling. Then she gazed around her in fascination. She tried to sit up, but the movement was far too fast, and she found herself lying down once again and clutching her spinning, aching head. Frodo, who had rushed to her side at her movement, had his right hand behind her head and was brushing away stray pieces of her hair from her face with his left. 'Good morning, Lily,' he whispered tenderly._

_'What am I-- Where-- How did I--?' Lily stuttered through the pane of her imploding skull._

_'You're at Bag End,' Frodo said calmly, 'in my bedroom. Last night. . . Do you remember last night?' Lily tried to shake her head but immediately stopped for the pain. 'Last night. . . you had quite a lot to drink, and there was a bit of a brawl, so I brought you here.' Frodo coaxed Lily to sit up slowly, carefully and handed her a glass, commanding, 'Here, drink this.' Lily did as she was told and somehow the warm, fragrant liquid cut through the fog of her mind and let her senses breathe clearly. 'A little something I got from the elves,' Frodo replied to her astonished yet grateful look. Lily took another sip. 'Not too much, now,' he warned and took the drink from her, replacing it on the bedside table._

_Lily looked up at her friend, smiled slightly, and said simply, 'Thank you.' Frodo flashed her a slight grin and nodded in return. A moment passed as they simply stared into each other's eyes. And then the moment was cut sharply off by, 'Oh God!' Lily cupped her face in her hands._

_'What? Your head again?' Frodo asked quickly, worriedly, grabbing the glass from the table again and waiting to attend to her every need._

_'No,' she responded, 'no, I-- I was dancing, wasn't I? . . . on tables?!'_

The drawer squeezed tightly shut, Frodo's right index finger still in it. He sucked in a quick breath through his teeth and shook the pain out of his hand. The momentary shock was over and his mind floated away again as he donned his simple attire.

_Frodo chuckled softly and reached across her to replace the miruvor on the table. He sat upright once again and watched his Lily intently as her smile faded into a saddened, wistful look. She took in breath quickly preparing for what she had to say next. 'Look, Mr. B--' but, seeing the look on his face, she rephrased, '--Frodo, thank you for all you've done, really, but my mother--'_

_'I sent word that you were here and safe and that I'd bring you home when you woke,' Frodo responded preemptively, anticipating her statement. Silence for a moment and then, 'Lily,' he began quietly, tentatively, 'you don't remember anything else about last night?' She lowered her eyes and Frodo could tell by this that she did remember. He had no idea what to say, however, so he merely waited, and waited a long while._

_Finally, she looked up at him meekly and responded, 'I. . . love you, as well.'_

Now fully clothed, Frodo softly made his way to the door of the room and exited in his classic style, with no show and no one watching.

A/N: Review please!


	17. The Breakfast Table

The breakfast table was laden with food when Frodo entered the kitchen

The breakfast table was laden with food when Frodo entered the kitchen. Sam and Rosie sat waiting. 'You might've started,' Frodo almost chided. 'You know how I hate formalities.'

'It's not a formality; it's just bein' polite,' Rosie said, shrugging off the comment. 'Butter?'

Frodo accepted the dish she held out to him and began preparing himself a plate: half a little cake, a scanty helping of summer berries, an egg, a meager serving of potatoes. Sam was chattering on about some odd new invention already and Rosie, truly his perfect mate, was listening intently, quite amused, and inserting her own comments and bits of news into the story. It was good to see Sam so happy and at ease, Frodo thought, after all those years of insecurity and insignificance he'd come from. It was good to see him so in love. Frodo sipped his tea slowly and the words rang in his head: so in love, so in love.

_He caught her up in his arms and nearly cried for all his joy. Finally he could hold his Lily tightly, let no one else touch her, keep her forever safe and warm. He broke his embrace only to kiss her briefly on each eyelid and then firmly on the mouth. He hadn't planned it, but the kiss quickly deepened becoming something more intimate than normally socially acceptable. When the kiss was broken, Lily blushed fiercely, suddenly aware of her position on the bed as well as her half-dressed state. Frodo had removed her ale-drenched frock and set it aside to soak away the stains. Now all that remained was a semi-fitted shift that floated around her like a cloud. Frodo smiled and fleetingly glanced at her under dress. He tried to speak, but found he couldn't and instead looked down at his hands in his lap, bursting into a brief fit of soft laugher. Then he took a breath and looked at her again. She was biting her lower lip and had been giggling giddily to herself as well. 'Ah,' Frodo began finally, 'So we should probably get you home, yeah? I mean, not that I'm not. . . absolutely elated being here with you and all, but. . . your mother _will_ worry.' He couldn't stop smiling, though he tried._

_Lily's smile faded, however, and she sighed. Now she looked down at his fingers and took his hand, his right. Frodo swallowed hard and recoiled slightly, his mile fading slightly. 'Must we?' she whispered._

_'No,' Frodo whispered after a moment. He took his hand from hers and slid around to sit next to her. He leaned easily against the headboard and pulled her to lay against his chest. 'We can stay here for as long as you want.'_

_'Forever, then.'_

_'Mmm. . .' was all Frodo said in response. They sat like that for quite some time. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He'd been up all night watching his Lily, and it felt good to relax now that he finally could without worrying that she wouldn't be there when he woke. Lily lay her right hand over his heart to feel the steady beat, her left entwined in his hair. After a time, she moved her hand from his heart to finger one of his shirt buttons, tracing little circles around and around. 'Lily,' Frodo nearly moaned, still whispering. He took her right hand in his left, ceasing the circling. Then he looked down at her affectionately and kissed her head._

_'I'm sorry,' Lily said softly._

_'What?' Frodo questioned equally softly._

_'I didn't know it bothered you. I won't do it anymore,' Lily explained. The two continued to whisper as if anything louder might send the world into a tizzy and bring the mountain and tower back up._

_Frodo chuckled softly at Lily's naivety. 'No, Lily, it doesn't bother me.'_

_'Then why--?'_

_'Shhh, Lily,' he hushed her, 'not now.'_

_Lily furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at Frodo puzzled. 'But Frodo--'_

_She was cut off as her lips suddenly became occupied with better things than words. His kiss was long and soft and sweet, and she gripped his shirt as though if she didn't, she might float away. Lily refused to let go as Frodo pulled away slowly. She stood frozen in time, savoring the sweetness of his lips. She felt his hand on her cheek and involuntarily leaned into it. Slowly, regretfully, she opened her eyes, knowing the moment had to end at some point, probably sooner rather than later. 'That,' he whispered to her softly, slowly, 'is why.'_

'Frodo?' Sam brought his attention back to breakfast. 'Food is made fer eatin'. Are ya just goin' ta stare at yer plate?' He was obviously worried. 'You've barely eaten anythin' lately. What's goin' on? You 'ave to eat, Mr. Frodo.'

Frodo slightly smiled at his friend and took a small bite to pacify him. It was silent, and Sam and Rosie only stared at him as he chewed his bit of breakfast. 'What, then, are you going to just sit and watch me eat? I'm fine, Sam, Rosie. I'm fine. I was. . . I was just thinking is all.'

'Ya seem ta be doin' quite a lot o' thinkin' lately, Mr. Frodo. What's warrantin' so much attention, eh?' Sam pressed.

'Nothing, Sam, just life. I've always been a thinker, and you've known me long enough by now to know that. I don't know what you're getting so upset over. It's just thinking,' Frodo insisted to his friend. Sam and Rosie looked at each other, but nothing more was said. Sam did know Frodo well, well enough to know when to press a matter and when to shut up. Now, he elected the second option.

A/N: R&R!


	18. The Miniscule Thought

A/N: This one's rated PG-13

_Lily took a timid breath and shied away from the minuscule thought in the corner of her mind. She shut her mouth, which had been left open a smidge from the delicious moment second earlier, and looked down at the bedding. She took the silk trimming of the sheet in her hand, stroking it with her thumb and swallowed her thoughts. Frodo looked down at her through his eyelashes and waited for her response. . . or a change in subject._

Frodo rose from the table and pushed in his chair, laying his napkin beside his half-empty plate. Words were absent as he left the room, but as he rounded the corner, he stopped, hearing his friends begin conversing in the room he had only just left. 'I'm worried about 'im. It's true what 'e says. 'E's always liked to think, but this isn't just thinkin'. There's somethin' wrong, somethin' 'orrid.'

'I know, Sam. So keep an eye on 'im, watch 'im for a while, but ya can' do much more. 'E won't stand for it,' Rosie said sensibly.

'I know, I know. I just worry about 'im. 'E's been so distant. It was good for a while, ya know, after we came back, but now. . .' Sam sighed and shook his head.

'I know. I see it, too.'

'I had such 'opes that it would all go away. I thought it 'ad,' Sam admitted softly.

In the corridor, Frodo had only one response. 'I did too, Sam. I did too,' he whispered.

_Lily looked up with big blue eyes into the bigger, bluer eyes of her betrothed. They sparkled down at her, brimming with some indeterminable sensation. She wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his face to nearly touching hers. Still staring into each other's eyes, they both stilled momentarily, before Frodo bent the rest of the way to her and their lips met at last. It was only a slight touch, a breath, a whisper of truth, but it was enough. Eyes closed now, they breathed as one. 'Lily,' he murmured against her lips, running his fingers through the curls of burnt sunlight that adorned his Lily's head. She pulled away slightly to look up at him again. 'Lily. . .' he couldn't finish._

_She looked into him with a childlike curiosity and found the words he couldn't. Her response to them was simple, but somehow an enigma. 'We should be married in the winter.' Frodo questioned her with a look she had come to understand. 'Snow would suit you,' she smiled to him. _

_'Autumn,' he responded, 'Autumn would suit you, with reddening leaves in your hair, under a maple tree.' He fingered a curl where it had escaped it's pin during the trying night before. _

_'Blotmoth,' she compromised, 'would suit us both. Fate will decide if it rains or snows in Blotmoth, when you returned to me.' _

_'Rain?' Frodo smiled, thinking of her standing drenched in a field of flowers._

_Lily kissed him again briefly and then continued, 'What I mean, Frodo, is. . .' She paused to find exactly what she _did_ mean, biting her lower lip. 'I love you.'_

_'I love you, too.' And that was that. All reservations and modesty were thrown to the wind. Frodo was up on his knees before her, pressing her to him, gripping her as though she were his last thread of life. Lily whimpered faintly, and he loosened his grip, but she only gripped him tighter. 'Lily,' he paused to question her, but she didn't let him stop to think. Her hand was in his hair pulling him towards her, willing him to touch her, to hold her. There was nothing in the world she wanted more at that moment than to be as close to him as possible, to be a part of him, closer than any other ever could be. _

_Then she found herself. She fingered the button she'd previously been circling, this time untangling it from the buttonhole. Frodo paused when she did this, paused and let his thoughts rush in. He looked down at the undone button in the middle of his shirt, his mouth slightly open as he fully realized what was about to happen. Then he looked at the young girl before him, for that was what she was, just an innocent girl barely out of her tweens, and wondered to himself if they should really be sitting so close on the bed. But there she was, half-dressed and loving him, and there was nothing he could do to convince himself that this was foolish, that this was wrong. So he took his hands from her and slowly unbuttoned the button just above the one she still held. _

Frodo slipped off the bland shirt he'd worn out to breakfast and replaced it with a bit more exciting one. He rummaged through the bureau for a pair of better trousers and found some in brown. She liked him in brown.

_The other buttons each had their turn to be freed from their bonds and soon the chemise was abandoned. Lily paused and gasped softly as the shirt fell down onto the bed revealing Frodo's creamy torso. The pale white skin was bluntly interrupted by a plethora of scars. The damaged flesh was raised slightly and intermittently in a "V" around his neck. A strange hurt was revealed around his ribs that she couldn't quite place. And, the piece de resistance, on his left shoulder a sickly mark resided, slightly purple and a little greenish as it rippled out in vein-like streams from a central slash that might have been a stab wound. 'Don't be afraid, Lily,' he whispered. 'All this is over now.'_

Chestnut trousers in place along with a matching vest and jacket, Frodo turned to the mirror to give his handiwork one last look before stepping out of his private haven to try and busy himself in his study while he waited for Lily to arrive.

_She looked up into his eyes realizing that, although she'd often spent her days imagining what he might've done while he was out on his adventure, imagining him fighting great battles and doing great deeds, although she knew it must've changed him, she'd never really though about how; she'd never really considered the wounds he might bear. In all her daydreams of him with sword in hand, she had never seen him hurt, never imagined he could be. Now, seeing him like this, it brought the truth to her mind and her heart was stirred profoundly. She took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly, deeply, meaningfully, trying to convey all that she felt, but feeling unable to. _

_Frodo kissed her passionately back, knowing what she was thinking, how she was feeling, knowing that she had to feel it and there was nothing he could do to keep it from her, wishing there was. Her fingers traced the little white scars around his neck and rested on the spot on his chest where the chain of scars came to a point, the place that had carried such a heavy burden for so long, just one of many constant reminders of how his life would never be. He ignored the gnawing feeling of loss and concentrated on what he had so recently gained. His hand was on her neck, and he pulled her close once again as they kissed, molded her into his body, cursed the light shift she still wore. He moved his hand from her neck down to her back and around onto her should to grip the little sleeve of the cloud that kept her from him, kept her aloft in an almost ethereal way. _

_She broke their contact and raised her arms above her head, allowing him to remove the barrier. He grasped the little dress at her hips, and she sat up to release it from under her. Up, up, and up, until the cloud floated away on a breeze. Lily lowered her arms shyly and bashfully covered her chest. Frodo glanced at the girl clutching her arms to her coyly. He took her hands in his own and moved them slowly giving her plenty of opportunity to react just in case this wasn't what she wanted after all. But she did not protest, she only looked him in the eyes a bit fearfully, but trusting him to keep her safe, trusting him to keep her secret. His gaze flickered between her eyes and the hands he moved oh so slowly. When her arms were extended enough to leave her naked and open to him, he looked down at her once more before catching her in a kiss once again. With the barrier finally gone, he enveloped her in his arms, bringing her to him, feeling flesh on silky flesh. Then, the last step, he abandoned his trousers, eyes to her eyes, watching her for the slightest sign of doubt. She gave none._

A/N: Please review!


	19. More Flooding

There came a muffled pounding sound, and Lily thought she was dreaming

_There came a muffled pounding sound, and Lily thought she was dreaming. She only heard it faintly, through a fog. Frodo heard it, too, but ignored it, thinking it only some minor annoyance and praying it would just go away. He was exhausted and simply wanted to lie there and sleep with his Lily in his arms. Another muffled sound accompanied the pounding, but Frodo could not identify it in his sleepy state. Then there was a burst and an 'Oh, Lord!' which Frodo did identify._

_Lily's mind sprang to alertness and adrenaline flooded her body, but she kept sense enough not to jump up. She buried her head in the pillow and curled up in a ball. 'Sam!' Frodo bolted up in bed, fumbling with the sheet as he tried to quickly cover his lower half and the form of Lily lying next to him. _

_'Mr. Frodo, sir, ah,' Sam stuttered trying to remember the words and trying at the same time to keep his thoughts and his eyes from his friend and the girl lying in the bed beside him. 'The Boffins!' he remembered triumphantly. 'Mrs. Boffin and Miss Poppy and Miss Mari, they're in the sittin' room. They wan' ta take Miss Lily 'ome.' He managed and tried to flee, but Frodo called him back._

_And at his words, Lily's mind flooded with thoughts, with shame, guilty, wonder, fear, anger, resentment, disgust, sorrow._

_'I told them I'd bring her home when she woke.'_

_'It's past one in the afternoon, Mr. Frodo. They were worried.' Again Sam tried to escape, but again he was recalled._

_'Sam,' Frodo called him in that certain tone, a sort of ashamed, sort of defiant tone. 'We'll be out in just a moment. Please just. . . just tell them it was late when we got in, and you've just woken her.' Sam looked Frodo in the eye chastising him silently, but only nodded in assent, before leaving the room quietly. As Lily felt Sam's disapproval and knowing it would be shared by all who knew, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut to press back the flood of tears._

The knock was loud and purposeful on the door to the study. Frodo turned from his work on his book to look at his friend. 'Is she here?' he asked as usual.

'No, Mr. Frodo,' Sam responded and advanced toward him. 'We need to talk, you and I. I'm worried about ya, Mr. Frodo, sir. Yer not yerself.'

'Please, Sam. I'm fine. I've told you that a million and one times. When will you believe me?' Frodo asked, a bit annoyed by his friend's nagging.

'When it's true,' Sam responded, but didn't press the subject feeling quite defeated suddenly. He simply patted Frodo's shoulder and left the room.

'Sam?' Frodo called him back. 'I really am fine.'

'Yeah,' was all Sam had to say to that.

A/N: Reviewwwwwwww!


	20. An Inconvenient Truth

A/N: Sorry I haven't posted

_Lily sat on her bed trying to make the ache between her legs dissipate. Peony reentered the room with her sister's formerly stained frock. It was now dried and pressed to perfection, no sign of it's former disgrace left thanks to the valiant Mr. Baggins. She set it on the bed, and sat down next to the younger girl. 'Lily,' she said with only the slightest touch of disapproval, 'why did you go off to the _Dragon_?'_

_'I don't know,' Lily admitted. 'I just thought. . . Mother told me about the money and. . . I just. . . I don't know.' She lowered her head into her hands and chided herself for her foolishness._

_Peony put an arm around her little sister. 'Dear, Lily,' she cooed, 'it's alright. It's all alright now. It's just. . . Mother did everything she did just too keep you and me and the others from pubs like that. Imagine how she felt when she heard you'd run away to one.'_

_'I didn't run away to it. I just. . . I didn't mean to. I mean, I didn't go out looking to start work there, but. . . I have no idea what I was thinking, really, Peony,' Lily admitted now quite ashamed of her childish actions._

_'Well,' Peony moved the conversation along, 'there's nothing to be done about the past now, and it certainly won't help to obsess over things we can't change.' She stood, taking her sister's hand. 'Come on, now, Lily. We should get you washed up.'_

Lily felt the road rise beneath her feet, a sure sign that the Hill was soon to be seen around a corner. She carried with her a small woven basket. Inside, a thin white cloth was wrapped around a bit of sliced ham, and a freshly baked loaf of bread sat next to that. A wedge of cheese wrapped in an oil cloth sat next to two small bottles of fresh milk and a little bundle of mushrooms. It was Lily's intention to take Frodo out for a surprise picnic. She hoped he'd be up for it, hoped it would be a good surprise. She knew from experience they weren't always that way.

_Lily stood in the center of the bathroom watching Peony draw the bath. The tub filled quickly with the steaming water, and when it was brimming full, Peony turned to her sister and said 'I'm going to go get you some fresh towels. Get undressed, already. Do you need help?' Peony kidded Lily and left the room._

_As soon as the door shut behind her elder sister, Lily burst into a fit of motion. She slipped off the dress Frodo had found for her to wear home since her own was still wet without undoing a single button or clasp. It was one of Rosie's and a bit big for her. She kicked the dress to the side and tensed, gasping through her teeth at the pain the motion caused. She couldn't stop for it, though. She quickly pulled her shift over her head and threw that over to lay on top of her frock. Now completely naked, Lily stepped into the bath tub. The water stood up to her knees and she dipped a hand down into it and wiped the last evidence of her socially suicidal act from her thigh. _

_Peony entered, fiddling with one of the towels she'd brought. Lily dropped quickly down into the tub to avoid her sister's prying eyes. 'Lily, what are you doing?' Peony said, chuckling at her sister's odd behavior. 'What's gotten into you?' She smiled and brought her little sister a bar of soap. 'So,' she attempted to make conversation, 'have you plans to do anything this week?' _

_'No,' Lily responded absentmindedly. 'Peony, I can bathe myself, you know.'_

_Her sister smiled at her before saying, 'Lily, darling, I'm afraid you're not going to be able to do much of anything alone for the next few days. Mother's odd that way. She's afraid you'll run off to the pub again, I suppose, but I know better. And don't worry, I'm here to make this as painless as possible.' Peony handed her sister a wash cloth from off the pile she'd carried in and Lily thought that Peony had no idea how painful it had been for her to drop down into the bath like she had. They passed a few moments in silence before Peony continued in her quest to reconnect with her younger sister._

_'So, it's lucky Mr. Baggins was at the _Dragon_ last night, eh? I don't mean to bring up what happened. I just mean, it's lucky. He's an upstanding gentlehobbit, in my opinion.' Lily nodded. 'Well, anyways," Peony changed the subject, as she stepped over to where Lily had kicked her borrowed frock. "Prisco's nearly talking now. I left him here with Mother last week and she thought he said an actual word. I'm praying he didn't because of course, that would mean I missed it, so as far as I'm concerned it didn't happen.' Peony lifted the dress and shook it out, putting everything to sorts as was her wont. 'Merimon and I were talking about having another. . . another child, I mean. Prisco is weaned already and things have been going really wonderfully with us, so. . . I think I'd like it. I really do. I miss that early stage when they're just--' she stopped abruptly, Lily's shift in her hands. Her eyebrows furrowed and she lifted the hem for the shift to inspect it and fingered it curiously. 'Lily. What--?' she shook her head and looked at her sister._

_Lily froze and fear rose in her. She had not noticed the blood that stained a small portion of the hem in her rush to wipe away other traces of her tryst. She struggled defiantly to keep the fear from showing on her face. Peony watched her for a moment, then asked quickly. 'Are you hurt?' Lily was unsure of how to respond. 'Did something happen last night, Lily? Did you fall or get a scrape or something? Here, let me see.' Peony set the under-dress down on her stool and knelt down by the bath, expecting Lily to reveal a gash of some notable size. But Lily, having no such scrape on her, did not move. She looked her sister in the eyes, her mind scrambling for what to do, what to say. She never had been good in situations like these. Lying never had come easy to her._

_Peony's brows furrowed further, if it was possible. 'Lily. . .'_

_Lily looked back at her still, letting the complete, honest fear shine in her eyes. She could think of nothing to say but the truth, and so she decided she would have to trust in her sister's discretion. 'I don't have a cut,' she told Peony._

_The older girl took a moment to respond, searching her mind, turning the words over and over. 'I don't understand,' she said, and then as a thought occurred to her, 'Oh, dear God! Lily tell me! Tell me now! Who was it? How did he--? Did he threaten you? Did he-- Did he hurt you? Did he--?' Peony took her sister's shoulders and looked at her so full of grief and horror she might've just received news of Lily's death._

_Lily took a breath and shook her head. She hadn't expected her sister to react this violently. And then she understood. 'Oh no. Peony, it's not-- No one-- I wasn't--' but she couldn't find the words._

_'Oh, Lily, whatever he said, don't believe him. If he threatened you-- Lily, tell me, please, you must and then we can take care of him. He was wrong, Lily. He's horrible, whoever he is. Lily, you-- you have to tell me, Lily; please, you just have to.'_

_Lily shook her head as Peony paused to allowed her to speak. 'I-- I wasn't raped, Peony.'_

_'What?' asked Peony quietly, her voice breaking over the word._

_Lily shook her head again, 'Peony, I wasn't raped,' she said evenly, but she couldn't look her sister in the eye, and that's how Peony knew._

_She only stood flabbergasted at her sister's audacity for a moment before she asked the only question that could make it all better. 'Was it last night? Were you . . . Were you drunk? Did he give you very much ale? That's still wrong, Lily. He misled you. He took advantage of you. He--'_

_'No,' Lily stated simply. 'I wasn't drunk. It wasn't even last night. And. . . and I wanted to.' Peony had nothing to say to that, could not take it in. 'Peony, it is very important that Mother doesn't find out. Not just yet. You tell me she'll have me under lock and key for the next week maybe just for going out to the bar. If she found out. . .'_

_Peony gulped down her feelings and stopped the questions running through her mind. She looked down at her skirts and then back up at Lily. 'Who--?' she tried and then finally managed, 'Who was it?' It came out a hoarse whisper, and Peony prayed it wasn't who she couldn't help thinking that it obviously had to be. _

_'Frodo.'_

A/N: Review please!


	21. Liberation

Peony only sat staring at the floor for a long while

_Peony only sat staring at the floor for a long while. Finally, Lily broke the silence to explain the situation to her sister. 'Peony, it's okay, see? We're getting married, see? Frodo and I, we're in love, and he asked me. Last night he asked me, and we're getting married. And don't worry about the money. He knows. I told him, and he doesn't care. He loves me, see, and I love him. And there isn't anything left to stand in our way. He's well-bred. He has money. He's a friend of the family. Don't you see, Peony? It's perfect. We're in love, and it's perfect!'_

_Peony still just sat there, she now seemed sad and far away. She sighed and looked up at her giddy young sister, thinking she had no idea just how naïve she sounded, pitying her for the pain she was about to experience, preparing to break her heart. 'Lily,' she said sadly, 'you can't marry Mr. Baggins.' Lily only looked at her with a question in her eye, but did not contest Peony's statement, waiting for justification of this theory. 'It will never work. Lily, Mother hates him. She'll protest. Grandfather will forbid it. There are traditions, Lily. And they shouldn't matter, but they do. If you marry him, Lily,' Peony warned sympathetically, 'they'll disown you.'_

_'What are you talking about, Peony?' Lily asked with a chuckle in her voice as though she thought it all a grand joke. _

_'Lily, you have to believe me,' Peony insisted. 'I wouldn't joke about this. It's serious.' Peony stood from her where she'd knelt on the floor beside the bath, paced the room in four great steps, and came back to sit on her stool beside the bath, taking the shift warily from where it lay on it, and once again fingering the hem. She looked up from the stain to her sister's eyes. 'Lily, there are traditions--'_

_'You said that already,' Lily interjected._

_'Well there are, and they can't be tampered with. Lily, they can't be overcome. Mother will disown you. Do you understand what that means? That means she won't see you, and that she'd deserve, but that also means she'll keep the others from you. I'm grown Lily and have my own family now, my own life. But you'd never see Poppy or Bella or Mari or Tom or Hal or Tim. Lily you'd never see any of them again. And mother would make you move out straight away and leave you with nothing, not even a goodbye.'_

_Lily did not respond, only looked her sister straight in the eye and stared. She did not cry. She didn't shed a tear. She wasn't even really sad. She didn't feel _anything_. In her mind she wondered about this, thinking she should feel something, anything at all. She tried to squeeze out a tear, just one. She tried to sink sadly into the bath, wallow in her would-be sea of tears, to feel that aching emptiness she thought she might've felt at some point before in a life she could only dimly remember. She didn't feel. She couldn't feel. And then she found suddenly that she did feel something after all. It was not emptiness; it was not sorrow. It was. . . liberation._

A/N: Yeah. That. That reviewing thing. You should do it. D


	22. Putting on Airs

Lily was astonished when the door of Bag End opened and Frodo stood before her

Lily stepped along the road quickly, willing her feet to cover more ground than should have been physically possible. She was so very eager to see Frodo, so very eager to be by his side and to pretend, as they always did, that everything was normal, everything was alright. She sped down the road as fast as she could without running. After all, she couldn't be seen _running _to Bag End. People would talk and, though she didn't care so very much about the talk itself, that really was the last thing she needed. People talking meant her mother would find out, and that was never good. Not good, not good at all.

Lily was astonished when the door of Bag End opened and Frodo stood before her. He was usually waiting in his study pouring over some odd book or another when she arrived. She stepped inside and he shut the door without saying a word, but as soon as they were out of sight of prying eyes she was in his arms, holding him tightly. 'I've missed you,' she whispered against his cheek.

'For the whole--' He looked at his pocket watch. '--seventeen hours since we last saw each other?' He laughed and embraced Lily, embraced her with his whole heart.

_The night air was quiet as Lily strode down the forest path towards the clearing she'd visited just once before. It was a cool night to begin with and even though the sun did not shine and therefore there could be no shade, the cover of the trees hid the stars and cooled the air around her somehow further. She stepped carefully along, watching her feet to avoid stray roots. Quickly, quickly she stepped down the trail, almost but not quite running. Then suddenly, as it always is when one rounds a bend in the woods, she came upon the clearing and her love. And she saw him and ran to him, flinging herself into his embrace. 'I've missed you,' she said softly against his cheek._

_'I've missed you, too,' he replied into her hair._

'And then he stood straight up and yelled out "Dada!"' Frodo laughed at Lily's anecdote, but then sobered quickly and sighed. The wind blew the sun away making the temperature perfect for their little picnic. The grass was lush and green in the forest clearing where they sat just as they had those few times before. The trees rose around them, providing shelter and seclusion from a world that did not understand them, that did not approve. 'Frodo,' Lily said, as she watched his smile fade, 'you seem upset.'

Frodo shook his head. 'No, I'm not upset,' he said softly.

_'So have you told them yet?' Frodo asked his Lily. She only looked down at the grass beneath her head glistening with dew in the moonlight as she lay in her lover's arms. 'What, you didn't? It's alright, Lily.' He looked at her from under lowered eyelashes and spoke very slowly, very softly. 'I was thinking perhaps I should go and ask your grandfather properly.' He waited for her to respond, but when she did not, he continued. 'I want to, Lily. Just say the word. I won't if you refuse, but it seems. . . It seems it would be best.' When she still did not respond, he took her hand where it rested on her knee. 'Lily, what's the matter?'_

_She shook her head and sighed. 'See, there's something I have to ask you about, Frodo.' He looked at her patiently, his response communicated though not spoken. 'There are traditions,' Lily started, but she had not the words to continue. She looked at Frodo, begging him to say something, to find the words and take them from her, to hang them in the air with the ease he always seemed to have in such matters. He might prefer silence, but his speech was fluid and calm and smooth and that was why he was such an enigma. It had weight behind it and yet was light. It could have a lilting laughter to it and yet at the same moment an undercurrent of deep, low sadness. But Frodo did not speak not, as Lily had known he would not. He preferred silence after all._

_'Peony. . . Frodo, what happened to make our families hate each other?'_

_Frodo took a moment to answer. 'What happened to make our families hate each other? I wasn't aware they did. You are no Sackville-Bagginses.'_

_'But Peony said--' Lily broke off. 'She said if I married you-- She said my mother would disown me.' Lily stopped, knowing she did not have to say anymore, knowing that if Frodo knew anything of what she was speaking of this would be enough to coax it from him. Frodo sat silently for a long while and at first Lily thought he was just preparing to speak, but then she realized: he was thinking._

_Frodo shook his head. 'I don't understand,' he said softly. 'I've been a good friend to your grandfather these past months. I've been a good friend to your family. And I'm told there's much less talk of me in town of the sort there was before.' And by this he meant about Mad Baggins the Second. Again he shook his head. 'I don't know, Lily. I don't understand. Are you sure that's what Peony meant?'_

Lily watched Frodo inquisitively, and finally Frodo gave in. 'I'm a Brandybuck,' he admitted.

Lily gave a small laugh. 'What? You're a Baggins, obviously.'

'My mother was a Brandybuck, Lily. Didn't you realize? I was raised in Buckland, at Brandy Hall.' Frodo watched Lily for her reaction. He found only puzzlement on her face. 'Brandybucks are not the most respected of people. A little odd, they are thought, no? And that coupled with my own. . . eccentricities and status as Bilbo's heir. . . Well, that would be enough to make me more than a little unsuitable in your mother's eyes.'

'Especially if she's trying to make my match to regain our name,' Lily finished for him.

Frodo looked at her and reached across the spread of food to touch her cheek. 'You know if there was anything I could do I would do it. Do you think there is anything? Shall I go and speak to her directly on the subject? Or to your grandfather?'

Lily shook her head. 'You can't change your ancestry,' she said, 'and that, I think, is the only thing that would really satisfy my mother at this point.'

_She met him in the clearing as she had the night before and sank down beside him on the grass. He was staring at the stars lost deep in thought. She lay next to him and admired the cosmos herself letting her mind wander and her heart rejoice in just being near him once again. After a long space of time he finally turned to her and kissed her cheek. 'Frodo,' she murmured to him, kissing him back. Soon she was pressed tightly against him wrapped in his arms. The earth beneath them was wetter than it had been the night before, but she ignored it, relishing the moment, knowing it wouldn't last. She knew that, as last night and as every night to come, she would have to run off back home and pretend that there was nothing in her heart but friendly affection for dear Mr. Baggins. And there was nothing she could do to change that. _

A/N: Please and thank you?


	23. An Offer He Had to Refuse

Lily scooted a little closer to Frodo

'I think. . . I think my mother is wrong,' Lily said after a while as they sat staring at each other across the table in the kitchen of Bag End.

'Yes.' Frodo agreed in his quiet, obvious manner.

'Frodo,' Lily said, leaning forward. 'So I think. . . We should ignore her.'

'What do you mean?' Frodo stirred his tea absentmindedly.

'I think. . . I'd like very much to marry you,' she said with a smile.

'Lily. . .' Frodo tried.

'I think. . .' she stopped him before he could get further, 'we can't go on sneaking time with each other like this. And even if we could, it's not enough. I'm calling her bluff, Frodo.'

'And what if she's not bluffing?' he asked with concern.

'Then I'll live with the consequences,' she told him and glance about the room to make sure they were not being overheard. She loved Sam dearly, and Rosie she knew to be of kind and gentle heart, but she would take no chance in this. It was too important.

'I can't let you do that, Lily,' Frodo told her, with a sadness in his voice that betrayed how much he wanted to let her do it.

'What else are we supposed to do, Frodo?' she asked softly.

'I'll find some way to convince them. I'll make them realize that I can bring up their good name and fortune too,' he offered.

Lily shook her head. 'My mother would skewer me and roast me alive if she knew I'd told you.'

Frodo shook his head and his shoulders slumped. 'You have to be able to see your family. I won't let you give that up.' Frodo sighed softly. He wanted so very badly just to be with her and let nothing and no one stand in their way. But he loved the girl sitting across the table from him, and he could not see her hurting, not if he could prevent it or at least in some way lessen it. If she was hurting now because she could not be by his side at every moment, because they had to meet in secret, or because she could no be his wife, then it would be far better than the hurt she would feel at being alienated from her family, at losing her mother, her siblings, her grandfather. Frodo knew what is was to be without a family. And he knew that if Susan Boffin wanted Lily out of her family's lives, she would find a way to make sure it happened. This small discomfort, this little prick of pain was far preferable to the clenching, gnawing, biting, grinding, squeezing, violent pain that was a life alone. And though he would be with her always, it would have to be a life alone. And Frodo apart from all others knew of that too. And so he would not marry her. He would save her from the greater pain. For it was the greater pain. Wasn't it?

A/N: Review please!


	24. Some Explaining to Do

Lily was reclining on the settee in the drawing room reading when her mother entered quietly and sat next to her

Lily was reclining on the settee in the drawing room reading when her mother entered quietly and sat next to her. The older woman did not say a word, so Lily only continued reading the flowing script of one of Frodo's translations, which he had lent her. It was an elven poem, an old epic, but, though it was a fairly interesting story, she was really only reading it because of who had written it. . . or translated it at least. Her eyes traced the thin black lines as they danced about the paper to form Frodo's purposeful script. She thought of him sitting holed up in his study with his book and his pen and his ink, thought of him pouring over the original, drinking in the foreign script, seeing the story before him as he always seemed to when he read. In the little clearing in the woods he'd read to her sometimes after their picnics or during their meetings under the stars. She loved to hear him read, loved to hear the sound of his voice as he dragged her into the story and away from the world, a world he'd long been a stranger to and in which she no longer belonged. Frodo would never tell Lily about his own adventures far away, beg as she might, but when he read her tales of other folk it seemed he knew the things of which they spoke, the place and people, but more the feelings, and it seemed she knew him a little bit more. From all of this reading and knowing, Lily thought she had learned one thing at least. If Frodo seemed to live in the Shire, it was only a carefully crafted ruse. If ever he had truly lived there, it had been before Lily'd known him. Now he lived nowhere, save in his books.

'So, Lily, how have you been filling your days of late?' Mrs. Boffin interrupted, startling Lily back to the drawing room.

'Ah, well, I've been reading--' Lily gestured to the book in her hand. '--and, well, I've. . .' Lily searched for something to say. 'I've been helping Mari with her studies. She really is quite bright. If she would just apply herself, I'm sure she could excel. She's a wonderful musician, you know.'

Mrs. Boffin nodded slightly at her daughter. 'You've been out a lot,' she commented.

'Well, it's been nice weather. I paid a visit to Primrose Goodbody yesterday, and Mari sometimes takes her lessons out of doors,' Lily said by way of excuse.

Mrs. Boffin nodded once again and made a slight little noise in assent. After a moment, she inquired, 'The books you've been reading, are any of them. . . worthwhile?'

Lily looked down at the book she now held in her lap. 'Yes, I believe they've all been worthwhile. Books educate, Mother, even as they entertain.'

'Fine then, Lily, have any of them been entertaining?' her mother said, a bit aggravated.

'Yes, Mother, they have been entertaining,' Lily responded simply.

'Any in particular?' Mrs. Boffin continued.

'They've all been very interesting, as I said.'

'What about that one, there?' Mrs. Boffin said gesturing to the book Lily had been reading when she'd entered.

'It's very interesting,' Lily tried to brush her mother off.

Mrs. Boffin scooted a little closer to her daughter. 'What is it about?' she pried.

Lily looked up at her mother and decided there was nothing she could do but humor her. 'It's an elven tale, a history of sorts, I suppose. It tells of the days of Numenor. It tells of the days of the first king, Elros Tar-Minyatur, and his heirs. Elros was the brother of Elrond, you know, who still lives in Imladris to this day. And they are descended from Luthien Tinuviel herself.--' Lily saw her mother's expression and ended her summary. 'Anyways, it's a good book.'

'So you read Elvish now, then?' Mrs. Boffin asked as though Lily were acting haughty.

'No, Mother, of course not,' Lily returned. 'It's a translation.'

'Of course,' Mrs. Boffin responded and then paused for a moment. 'Where did you get it?'

'Frodo lent it to me,' Lily sighed, wearying quickly of the conversation. 'He's the one who translated it.'

'He is, is he?' Mrs. Boffin took that certain tone. 'You've been spending a lot of time around Mr. Baggins of late, haven't you?'

'I suppose,' said Lily rising from her seat and setting Frodo's book on the end table.

'Why?'

'Why?' Lily repeated the question. 'Well, he lends me books.'

'That's all?'

'No. We talk about them sometimes. Sometimes we read together. And on occasion he tells me stories that aren't in books. . . Or aren't yet, at least.'

'Lily, I don't think it's proper,' Mrs. Boffin finally came out and said it. Lily sighed and turned away from her mother. 'Lily, I know you thought-- I know you wanted-- I know you had a little. . . I know you fancied him, Lily, but you know now it can't be. I think-- I think you should move on. There are plenty of other young hobbits out there for you, plenty of other, younger, better hobbits. You should. . . Look around. You don't want to end up all alone, now do you?' Lily did not answer the question, and Mrs. Boffin answered it for her. 'You don't, do you? Of course not, why would you? Lily, I only want the best for you, you know that. So I don't want you going around Bag End anymore.'

'Mother--'

'Now, Lily, I know you're not going to want to, but I think it's best. You can return his book when you finish it, and then perhaps you can pay a short visit once every now and again, but only if you ask me first. And that's being generous, Lily. At least there's Rosie, but. . .' Mrs. Boffin shook her head. 'I'm doing this for your own good, Lily.'

'How is this for my own good?!' Lily exclaimed.

'He's cracked, Lily. He's not good for you. You're already getting caught up in his silliness. Reading's one thing, but these books are. . .'

'Are what, Mother? You don't mind my reading but you don't want me to read books?'

'No just these books.'

'And what other books are there, Mother, that I haven't already read?'

Mrs. Boffin sighed, frustrated. 'Lily, just trust me. I know what's best, and it's not him.'

'Why?' Lily challenged.

'Because I said so.'

A/N: Please review!


	25. A Sister's Favor

In a matter of minutes Lily was storming into her sister's room, ranting about the meddling ways of their beloved mother

_In a matter of minutes Lily was storming into her sister's room, ranting about the meddling ways of their beloved mother. Poppy wasn't the most ideal victim of her wrath, but she'd have to do as her eldest sister left in the house. Her nature itself posed a danger to the ranting girl, but she was less likely than Bella to run off and squeal and more likely than Mari to understand, and thus, it was a risk that Lily, at least in anger, was more than willing to take. 'How? How can she do this to me? What did he ever do to deserve this labeling? Cracked? Cracked? But he's brilliant! Oh, what did he ever do? He was born into the wrong family, that's what. Or, no, I was, surely. His family isn't the one standing in the way.'_

_'Lily, he doesn't have any family,' Poppy softly reminded her, knowing immediately of whom her sister spoke. _

_'Well he has Sam,' Lily substituted. She moaned and collapsed in a small heap on the bed. 'What is wrong with me, Poppy? Why can't I just be happy with what I get? Why did I have to go and fall in love?'_

_'Oh, Lily, I'm sorry. It's my fault, too. I pushed you into it. I goaded you about him. I didn't know about. . . I didn't know, and I'm sorry,' Poppy apologized profusely to her sister, feeling heavily the consequences of her amateur matchmaking. _

_'It's not your fault Poppy. I was in love with him before you even started. It would've happened with or without your help. I was always interested in him, at least since he returned, I mean. So quiet and aloof without being haughty, per say. Seeming in a far different, far better world half the time. Seeming so far away you could never really touch him. And then--'_

_'And then what?' Poppy asked innocently._

_'And then. . . we started talking more and more and. . . he got somehow more real and more. . . wonderful,' Lily covered. In her mind she said aloud to the world 'And then I did touch him, and it was heaven!' But she knew that she could never say it anywhere but in her mind, and so she stuck with her silly lie. She would stick with it until the end, the end of what, she did not know, but the end. She supposed the end would come very soon, or, at least, the end of what little they had left. And then the thought came to her. She did not want it to end. Yes, she'd known this before, but suddenly it seemed clearer and more poignant to her. She did not want it to end. And it wouldn't. 'Poppy, will you do me a favor?'_

And when she'd asked, Poppy hadn't known how she could refuse, so now she sat under the mallorn tree wondering what to do. A distraction was what she needed, Poppy thought meddling once again in her sister's affairs, but this time with permission, something to keep their mother's mind off of Lily. A beau, A beau was what she needed. Mrs. Boffin wanted a beau for Lily. She just couldn't see the merit in the one Lily already had. So she'd make her compare him to someone else. Now, Lily would never court another, she knew, her heart already being set on the dashing Mr. Baggins. And in any case, that would defeat the purpose of the favor, wouldn't it? So, Poppy decided, she would take the beau herself.

He had to be odd; he had to be rough; but he had to be from a good family with which the Boffins had no quarrel so that her mother would have no substantial argument against the match. He had to be a charming, sweet, and proper lad by day and a drunken, mischievous, troublemaking lad by night. Luckily, dual personalities were not hard to find in the Shire, a land that was a little too proper not to enjoy merrymaking a little too much. And then he stepped by on the road, Hal Hornblower, the perfect candidate.

A/N: R&R!


	26. A Proper Life

A Proper Life

Lily sat on the settee in the drawing room watching Prisco totter about the room. Peony had come by as she did on many days to visit with her family and, on this particular occasion, to speak to her mother. 'Did she say when she was coming back, then?' she asked her younger sister as they watched her son play about the room.

'She told me she wasn't taking tea with them, so I suspect she'll be home quite soon,' Lily responded through her daze.

Peony turned her gaze to watch her. 'And the others?' she asked quietly.

'Bella went with Mother. Poppy and Mari? My guess is that they're gallivanting around town enjoying the gossip. Tom ran off with his friends, probably to get into some horrid trouble we'll have to sort out later, and Hal's down at the Goodbodies' helping Holman with his cart,' she explained, not taking her gaze from Prisco.

Peony watched her sister for a moment more, sighed, and looked about as though checking to make sure Lily's explanation was accurate. 'Lily. . . How have you been?' she asked gently.

Now Lily looked at her sister, realizing where the conversation was turning. 'I've been splendid,' she said without the slightest hint of a smile.

Peony looked down at her hands where they sat in her lap and then back up to Lily's face. It hurt her to bring it up, but she knew it hurt Lily more. 'I'm. . . sorry,' she tried. Lily took a breath and watched her sister struggle with her words. 'I'm just. . . sorry.'

'Is that it?' Lily asked. 'Is that all you have to say about it?'

Peony sighed and lowered her head. It was not an agreement, but neither was it a declination. Lily had to wait a long time before Peony spoke again. 'I can't say. . . I know what it is to you,' she began. 'I can't say. . . I really loved Sam when we married. I knew a little about our situation, what I could gather from snippets of overheard conversations. I knew enough to know I had to marry well and soon, at least, for the good of use all. And I took it upon me to find a good husband and quickly. I don't regret it, Lily, and I'm happy in my life. But I never figured that sort of a life for you.'

Lily watched her sister with growing interest. Peony continued, 'I was always the sensible one, the one who took problems on to fix that were too big for her. And Poppy was always the gossip and Bella we knew would find nothing more rewarding than having children of her own to boss around. And Mari, well. . . Mari hasn't quite figured out yet who she is going to be yet, but she isn't as like Poppy as she thinks she is.' Peony paused before going on. 'You were never like any of us, Lily,' and she said this with great thought and care. 'You were very like yourself. When you were young there was gossip in your tongue as there is in the tongues of many a child, but it was never quite the same gossip and you never cared the same way for it as those who heard it after and before.'

Peony sighed and got to her point. 'What I mean by all this, Lily, is that I've been thinking. How could I not have? And what I've come round to is this. I wish you the best. I don't think your Mr. Baggins is cracked all that badly after all and if he is, I think more ought to be. I can't say I approve of what you did, Lily. But if there's anything I can do. . .' and that was all the farther Peony could get.

Lily knew it had been hard enough for her to get as far as she had, and she was grateful to her for what she'd said. She thought that if there was something she could think of, some way Peony could help, she'd quickly take her up on her offer. But as yet she found nothing in her mind or Peony's power that would avail her any comfort or reprieve, she kept her silence. She smiled for her sister as thanks and let the silence close in around them.

'Poppy's been about with Hal Hornblower,' Peony change the topic.

Lily smiled, inwardly noting to thank her sister later. 'I've noticed that as well.'

'He's not the best of lads, is he?' Peony noted. Lily shook her head in agreement and bit back another smile. 'What's that all about?' Peony asked, knowing instinctively from Lily's manner that she knew more than she was saying.

Lily shook her head. 'She's just a girl. It's nothing serious, nothing to worry about, anyways.' Peony gave her a look before abandoning her pursuit of the question. Lily's smile faded and as she brought her gaze back to the child tinkering with his toys across the room, her thoughts turned back to Frodo. 'I don't know why I did it, Peony,' she said after a while and Peony knew of what she was speaking. 'I never thought I'd do anything like that. I never. . . But when I was sitting next to him on the bed. . . He'd taken such good care of me and been so kind. . .' she thought aloud, but then changed her mind. 'But that's not it at all. No. When he was I was sitting next to him. . . When he touched me. . .' and she let her voice fade away and looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye.

Peony was sitting quite composedly in her chair, watching Lily attentively as she spoke. 'I envy you that, Lily,' she said without emotion.

Lily watched her and gave her a sad smile, understanding now as never before the technicalities of Peony's life and admiring her all the more for the knowledge of what she'd given up. But understand as she might, Lily could not help thinking that everything would have been simpler, been better if she could have just been practical like Peony in the first place. 'All I ever wanted was a proper life,' she confessed to her sister. 'But I'm afraid I've lost any possibility now of that forever, haven't I? Even if I left him now, Peony, even if I found someone practical, it would never be a good and proper life. And I would always know in the back of my mind. . . That I loved him,' Lily sighed, 'in every way possible.'

Peony watched her sister with a sympathetic look. As much as she might envy her her love, she would never envy her what came of it.

And unbeknownst to both of them, just outside the doorway a curious young girl stood and watched.

A/N: Oooooh. . . Who is it, I wonder? Please review!


	27. Winter's Foot

It was dark and quiet in the cottage when the pain came

_It was dark and quiet in the cottage when the pain came. She thought it was a dream, some sort of a nightmare. She felt herself waking, and it didn't go away. She tried to ignore it, thought maybe it would subside. It didn't. She sat up in bed. The only sound was that of the night breeze floating through the open window. It touched her bare arms and blew her shift away from her body. She shivered as the breeze touched her skin, and then abruptly clutched her stomach as the pain sharpened. Had she eaten something that upset her so? But the pain was different than that. It was harsher and far more acute. She lay down on her side, arms around her abdomen, knees to her chest, rocking slowly back and forth, wishing sleep would come. But it did not come, and this was how they found her in the morning._

There was a bustle and a breeze and in rushed two brown-haired hobbits, one right after the other. The first dashed to the bedside, blue eyes searching, probing, looking for something, anything to make her seem. . . at all at peace. The second stood behind him, green eyes peering through russet curls at her sister where she lay on the bed. Peony looked down at the molasses-haired hobbit below her. He was shaking; in a moment she realized he was crying. She stood by, detached, and watched him weep, watched him mourn her sister's pain. Her eyes rose once more to the still figure on the bed. There was not a breath or sound in the room as they all stared at her. The seven figures behind her simply stood, motionless, thoughtless. Seven heads bobbed a bit with frustration, grief, and fatigue. Seven heads, ginger, chestnut, almond, pale honey, chocolate, snowy white, and faded toffee, stared at the now stilled figure on the bed. The caramel-colored curls were matted against a pale forehead, pressed close and sticking with the sweat of a fever. Then a whimper escaped her lips; a whimper was all she had strength left for.

The blue eyes tore away from the girl, stormy now with rage. Frodo scanned the audience behind him looking for a guilty face. All he saw was fear. He climbed up onto the bed and over to his Lily. He pushed the sticky curls back from her face and kissed her forehead. His poor Lily, why was she so ill? He'd promised himself that she'd never be anything but happy. He'd promised himself he'd protect her. What was the use of saving the free peoples if he couldn't save only just this one. He gathered her up in his arms, trying to make up for it now by comforting her. She moaned softly, pressing her head against him, knowing the feeling of his arms around her. Frodo looked up from the ailing girl to her myriad relatives standing all in a row. 'Who did this?' he asked softly. 'This isn't normal. What's wrong with her? What's happening?'

There was no response from the audience. Peony, however, spoke up. 'Are you accusing one of us of making her ill? Mr. Baggins, I don't think you--'

But then there was a scurrying and a bustle in the hall and a flustered Rosie entered the room, took one look at the scene and stepped quickly, resolutely towards the couple on the bed. She took a look at the girl and ordered to the audience behind her, 'Cool water and rags.' No one moved. Rosie spun round and chided them with her eyes, before grabbing the closest wrist in sight and pressing the ginger-haired Poppy out the door. 'Cool water,' she repeated firmly, 'and rags.' Rosie followed the girl, one hand still pressed into Poppy's back. She was used to the task of nursing and a fever and a pain meant only one thing to her. Ice.

'Rosie!' Frodo called after her. She turned to look at him and he inquired anxiously, 'What's happening?' But she only shook her head and walked away. 'Rosie! Rosie!' He would have run after her but he had not the heart to leave his Lily. He looked down at her where she lay in his arms and brought her just that little bit closer to him. She opened her eyes for the first time that morning and gazed up at him. 'Lily, Lily, my darling Lily,' he whispered into her ear.

She watched him, and he stared back at her. Their gazes were unbroken, unbroken that is until she shut her eyes against the pain that rose again in her abdomen. 'Frodo,' she whispered back, her voice sounding short of breath, when the pain subsided a bit and became once again that tolerable ache.

Faded toffee curls launched forward toward the bed, overtaking Peony where she stood by watching. Susan Boffin murmured over her shoulder to her eldest daughter, 'Why did you bring him here?' But she did not allow time for a response. Instead, she raised her voice in wavering authority, 'Mr. Baggins, my daughter is ill. She needs her rest. I think you should go.'

'I won't, Susan. I will not,' Frodo responded firmly, resolutely.

Susan became flustered by the response and the audacity with which she felt it was delivered. The familiar address sent her reeling into realms of indecency she felt improper to explore. 'Mr. Baggins, this is, as far as I know, still my house, and I will not allow you to come into my home uninvited, insult me, and disturb my family. My Lily is ill, and _I_ say she needs rest. Leave, Mr. Baggins. _Now_.'

'Actually, _Mrs._ Boffin, this is _not_ your home. It is your father's home. I _have_ been invited by your own daughter Peony,' Frodo spat back at her.

Mrs. Boffin groped for words, reached for some arbitrary thought to cling to, found it, and turned once again to face her eldest daughter. 'Why did you bring him here?' she asked coldly.

'Mother, I--'

'Tell me now, Peony. Why did you bring him here?'

'You don't understand, Mother. You won't--'

'Why, Peony?! Why?! Why would you do this to me?!'

'Because he loves her!' she screamed in her mother's face, feeling at once like a hero and a very smile child. 'Because he deserves to be here! Because if something were to happen to her and him absent, I-- I couldn't forgive myself for not bringing him!' She paused to take control of her tone. 'I'm off happily married, Mother. Now it's Lily's turn, and the only thing standing in her way is you! She loves him, and you're taking that away from her!'

'She doesn't love him. She can't love him!' Mrs. Boffin yelled back.

'She's been sneaking off, Mother, because she's torn. She didn't want to lose you. And now she's ill, and he deserves to be with her! She deserves to have him here.'

'Well then if she's ill it's her own fault!' Mrs. Boffin exploded.

There was silence in the room for what seemed like years. Molasses waves snapped up to stare at the old hobbit woman standing before the bed. 'What did you do?' Frodo repeated his previous question, now finding a face to point it towards. The silence continued as though it had not been broken. Peony alone looked him straight in the eyes, and the thought passed between the two of them. 'What did you give her?'

Then the conversation ended as Lily let out a little moan and Frodo bent his head back down to her to pay her his full attention. As he watched her, little silent tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. He cooed to her and held her head in his lap, petting back her melted spun-sugar curls.

Across the room, Hal's pale honey-colored head bobbed for a moment as he looked about and made his decision. It was time to leave. He marched reluctantly to the door, paused to give his chocolate-haired brother a look, and left. Tom was not far behind.

Then Frodo's attentions were interrupted as Rosie pressed past Tom to reenter the room, Poppy in tow, and sped resolutely to the bed. As she entered, the snowy white head pressed a hand to the back of his youngest granddaughter. The chestnut haired girl turned away as she was bidden, and Will Whitfoot followed her out the door. Almond curls swished 'no' at his plea for her to follow. Bella would not move, but neither did she step forward to help.

As Frodo and Peony looked on anxiously, Rosie directed Poppy to place the cool, damp rags on Lily's arms and forehead as she handed them to her. Next to Lily on the nightstand sat a cup of misshapen ice, haphazardly cut from the ice block. When the rags were carefully placed, she took on of these pieces and ran it across Lily's chest, took another and pressed it to her lips, encouraging her to take it in her mouth. Then she removed the rags, one after another, dipped them into her bowl of cold water, wrung them out, replaced them.

Frodo stood abruptly, grabbed the wrist of Susan Boffin where she still stood at the edge of the bed with Peony, and pulled her from the room. In the corridor he stood her against the wall, ignoring the gazes of the three brothers, Tim being just newly arrived, his friend Will, and the young Mari. He paced once in front of her before he quietly repeated the question he'd been asking since the first. 'What did you give her?' he stopped in front of her and stepped forward until they were nose to nose, looking down at the older hobbit through ebony lashes. His gaze was hard and piercing. She did not even try to avoid the question now.

'Corthalen. Winter's Foot.'

A/N: Review please!


	28. There's a Certain Time of Day

'Corthalen

It was early the next morning that Lily's fever broke. Each family member took his turn welcoming Lily back to health and then, one by one, they marched back off to their homes and their lives. And so, by afternoon, it was only Bella and Mari sitting silently in the drawing room, staring at the floor.

_Mari stood in the kitchen making dinner with her mother narrating the story of that day__'__s lessons, which her mother had become increasingly interested in over the past weeks. Then Mrs. Boffin sent her to the table with two plates which she designated for Bella and Poppy. In a moment, she followed with plates for Lily and for Will. Another round for each of the brothers__'__ food as well as Mari__'__s and then her mother__'__s food. Then they sat eating their meat pies in silence for a while before Susan began her ritual of grilling Lily on her recent whereabouts. A few weeks ago, she would have covered her tracks by asking the same of the other girls. Now, however, she was past formalities as the interrogation had become habit. When it was through the rest of the meal was taken in a tense silence._

_Mari left the room along with the other girls when they were dismissed, but as she stood in the sitting room, she overheard her grandfather challenge her mother. __'__Susan, why do you do that to the girl?__'_

_'__She deserves it. I wouldn__'__t do it if she didn__'__t give me a reason to. She__'__s been sneaking about, Father. You would__'__ve done the same to me if I__'__d have done what she__'__s doing,__'__ Mrs. Boffin excused herself._

_'__And what exactly has she done, Susan?__'__ Will challenged._

_'__Some things,__'__ Mrs. Boffin responded, __'__are not to be spoken of.__'_

Mari gave a sigh and frowned, wondering what had made her remember such a trivial conversation and at the same time wondering just exactly what things were not to be spoken of. She looked up as her ginger-headed sister entered the room with an unusually solemn look on her face. They had all had unusually solemn looks lately, she thought, and for good reason, but Poppy seemed more affected than most.

_They stood in Lily__'__s bedroom, all lined up in a row. They stood and watched their sister, daughter, granddaughter lying on the bed writhing in pain. They stood and watched because they did not know what to do. Poppy looked at her grandfather and saw confusion. She turned to her little sister Mari and saw fear. She searched the face of her mother and saw only it__'__s usual stoic expression. Then she saw Bella looking as though the world might end. She wondered what her own face would look like if she could stand before I and stare, wondered if it would betray the guilt she felt in her heart. For even though she knew he sister__'__s sickness was not of her making, she had cause the whole situation, pressed it on from the very beginning. She__'__d been so caught up in her childish fancies she__'__d never had a thought for what might happen to those hearts with which she played. No one on earth could have portended this result, she knew, but all the same it had been bad enough without. __'__She said she__'__d come right along,__'__ she told them all. __'__Peony said she__'__d be right here.__' And she said it as much for their sake as to break her own train of thought._

Poppy stood in the doorway for a moment, considering entering the room, but then she turned and simply walked away. It was easier to be alone. But across the room sat a girl with a very different perspective, a girl who'd thought she might be a little older than she was, and who'd meddled in affairs twice her size. Now she was feeling small and alone and the company in the room did nothing to dissipate that feeling. Bella thought she might have lain in the embrace of a sister or two and still felt more alone than she'd ever before thought was possible.

_'__Lily, get up and help me make breakfast. Come, I don__'__t want to do it alone.__'__ Bella stepped through her sister__'__s door when the knocking and calling failed to produce the desired result. __'__Come, Lily, get up. What__'__s wrong with you today?__'__ When her sister did not respond, she approached the bed. Lily was curled up in a ball, gripping the covers tightly. __'__Lily, get up,__'__ she commanded, slightly shoving her sister. Lily only moaned and clutched the bed sheets tighter to her. __'__Lily? Lily, what__'__s wrong?__'__ Lily would not respond, would not even open her eyes, and then it happened. Suddenly she balled up tighter on the bed and whimpered in pain, almost sobbed. Bella had never seen her sister like that. Lily had always been perfectly healthy, even when the others all had their childhood diseases. Now she was crying in pain. Bella knew not what to do. __'__Mother!__'__ she screamed, and it was the last thing she said during the entire ordeal._

Bella wavered for a moment, teared up, and hastily fled the room, thinking that for the rest of her life she'd always dread that certain time of day.

A/N: Do that thing you do! Readers, please review!


	29. The Eruption

The room was warm and cozy, tinted red from the glowing flames

'_Corthalen?!__'__ The call had come from just outside the door. __'__What were you thinking?! Susan--! She could die!__'_

_'__I didn__'__t-- I thought--__' Susan stammered, unable to keep up her defense._

_'__How could you, Susan? How-- She__'__s your daughter. Corthalen-- How could you--?__'_

_'__How could you?__'_

_'__How could I?__'_

_'__Oh, yes, you know what you did. How you hurt her. I was only protecting her. What have you done but hurt her, boy?__'_

_'I-- haven't hurt her. __I have loved her.__'_

_'No. __I have loved her. I loved her first, before all others and will always. I__'__m her mother. No. I have loved her, Frodo Baggins. You have killed her.__'_

_'Y__ou__'__re killing her. Right now. She__'__s in there in a fever, who knows if she__'__ll live. Susan, you--__'_

_'__I protected her. I protected her from you. That__'__s what I did. I kept her life from being ruined.__'_

_'__You didn__'__t think this would ruin it?__'_

_'. . .__I didn__'__t. . . know.__'_

_'__You didn__'__t know? That__'__s your excuse? Ignorance killed your daughter, not you? Susan--__'_

_'__She__'__s not dead yet.__'_

_'__She__'__s not dead yet. No, she__'__s not dead yet.__'_

Lily reclined in Frodo's great armchair in the sitting room of Bag End, face flushed in the welcome heat of the fire. A sudden cold snap had taken the Shire by storm, and chimneys everywhere were smoking. Lily looked up from her book at a bump from the next room. 'Frodo?'

'I'm fine. I'm fine. It's nothing,' he called from the study. Another bump soon followed. 'I'm fine. Once again, it's nothing. Just me being clumsy.'

Lily smiled at his preemptive response. He must be trying to reach the books on those very top shelves, she thought, taking a sip of her tea. She could almost see him stretching, stretching, and being knocked on the head with a clunky old book, dust filling the room. She giggled at the thought. Another thump and, 'Fine! I'm fine.' She giggled again, knowing it was the truth. A log crumbled and collapsed in the fire, bringing her attention back to the room in which she sat. She stared at the fire until her eyes hurt, and she was forced to close them. The warmth embraced her and after a time she dozed off into the gray land between sleep and waking.

In his study, Frodo blew the dust off of one of the books he'd been trying to reach on the very top shelf of his bookcases. He set it on the desk and lightly touched his left shoulder, then sat down in his chair.

_A heavy knocking had come early at the door and Frodo had awoken to the sound of his name being called what seemed like very loudly, yet very far away. He jumped from his bed and ran to the door, throwing on his robe as he went. He swung the door open to reveal a frantic-looking Peony leaning breathlessly against the wall of the smail, her left hand still holding her skirts where she had lifted them while running, her feet caked with dirt from what must have been a shortcut.__'__Peony, what__'__s wrong?__' he exclaimed._

_'__Oh, Frodo! You have to come with me! Get dressed! You have to come!__'__ she gasped._

_'__Peony,__'__ he asked worriedly, taking her wrists, pulling her into the smial, and sitting her down in a chair, __'__What is going on? Where do you want me to come? What__'__s happening?__'_

_'__Frodo, it__'__s Lily,__'__ she responded quickly. __'__She__'__s ill.__'__ It was barely minutes before they were out the door and sprinting back to the cottage, but it felt to Frodo both like days. As soon as the cottage came into sight, Frodo sped off with renewed energy, leaving Peony to her own pace behind. Peony caught up to him just as he tore around the corner into the bedroom and collapsed onto his knees before the bed. _

Thump. A big one this time, big enough to rouse Lily slightly from her drowsy reverie. She might have drifted back off to sleep except for the eerie silence that followed. Lily raised her pretty, curly, little head and rose from the armchair. She stepped carefully, curiously, and a bit apprehensively into the study. 'Frodo?' she asked quietly directly before she entered. In the next moment she rounded the corner and saw Frodo leaning weakly against his desk, grasping his left shoulder painfully and doubled over in pain. 'Frodo?!' she exclaimed, rushing forward to support him. 'Did you hit yourself what--?' Then the thought rushed to her and she remembered the green and purple blemish on his fair and creamy skin. 'Oh, Frodo,' she cooed, and he knew she had remembered. 'Come, let's get you to bed.'

'I'm fine, Lily,' he assured her in that quiet, wispy tone. 'I'm alright.' He stood himself up straight and shooed away her hands. 'It was just a spell,' he rationalized. Lily stepped away cautiously, unsure of what to do. Then she saw the look come over him again, though he tried to hide it.

Laying a hand on his uninflected shoulder, she cooed to him, 'Frodo, you're hurt. It is no shame to be ill.' He looked sadly at her with those great, blue eyes as if to convey the memory that pained him more than the wound. She thought he might have called her name, might have whispered desperately to her, but his lips did not move, and he only continued to watch her from behind the deep pools of his eyes. She wrapped her left arm around his back to support him and slung his right around her shoulders. 'Come now, Frodo,' Lily encouraged softly. 'Let's get you well.'

Five hours later, Frodo lay limply on the bed as Lily sat near him. She sat there on the window seat as he had sat watching over her on that fateful night so many months ago. She sat as though a stricken child, obedience ground into her, hands clasped in her lap, back bent, head down. Then finally, as the moments passed at a snail-like pace, she could stand it no more and launched suddenly up to pace the room restlessly. After a few rounds of this, she stepped up to the bed to gaze at Frodo where he lay. 'Sam, you must tell me what's happened,' she said to the figure standing against the wall opposite the bed.

Sam looked from his friend to the girl and made a sudden decisive decision. He stalked from the room. Lily followed. In the hallway he spun round to face her. 'Alright then, Lily,' he said resolutely, 'I'll tell you.'

A/N: R&R!


	30. A Sister's Confidence

The Cottage was silent save the crackling of the fire in the hearth

The Cottage was silent save the crackling of the fire in the hearth. With Peony and Lily out of the house, Bella calling on a neighbor, and Poppy off gallivanting once again with the devilish Hal Hornblower, not to mention the men all off to work or play, Marigold sat nearly alone in her grandfather's great armchair in the drawing room, nearly alone, but not quite. Across the room Susan hunched over her needlework on the settee. Mari tried her best to focus on the fire, the brightness of the flames, but every now and then she found her eyes wandering over the watch her mother, a mother she knew far too well. She wished with all her heart to say she didn't know the woman with the sewing anymore, didn't recognize her for the person she'd thought she was, but it would be a lie. She knew her, and in a way she understood her. This was her greatest disappointment in herself. After all that had happened, all they'd been through, how could she stand to sit in the same room with this woman? How? Because it was half her fault anyway.

_Mari and Lily sat under the mallorn tree in the Party Field, the latter with a book in her hands. Liltingly she read from it the verses artfully scribed there. It was mid-morning and time for Mari's daily lesson. Of late, the sisters had been reading poetry, and today was no exception. 'So, what do you think?' Lily inquired of the younger girl when she had finished the poem._

_'Well. . .' Mari hesitated. 'It flows nicely, and the rhymes are all quite good. There are wondrous metaphors like. . . What was it? "Her eyes a chilling cloud" and so on. . .'_

_'But. . ?' Lily coerced her lightly._

_'But. . . I don't really understand it. I don't see how it means anything. It's quite wonderful for this girl to be compared to so many things, but she has got cloudy eyes, a sunny smile, and a lightning-quick temper. She leaves everyone windblown. There's even a rain of tears. I mean really, it's like she's the weather itself. A little overboard, I think.'_

_'Well, who's to say she's not?' Lily questioned, finally getting somewhere with her sister._

_'Who's to say she's not what?'_

_'Who's to say she not the weather?'_

_Mari was silent for a moment, but only a very brief one, before responding, 'Well of course she's not the weather. Lily, that doesn't make any sense at all.'_

_'Oh, doesn't it?'_

_'No, it doesn't.'_

_'Actually, it does,' Lily stated, getting down to it. 'Look. Here, the author says she is unpredictable and here uncontrollable. Is the weather not both of those? Here he says she is sometimes congenial and sometimes obstinate. Can the weather not be agreeable or disagreeable to your plans? And look here, where he says he would not change her for the world. Would you change the weather? Even though sometimes it's inconvenient for it to rain, without the rain, we'd not survive. And look, here he cannot live without her.' Lily paused to let her sister soak in her words. 'There,' she continued after a time. 'Do you see it now? The author loves the weather. He appreciates nature even more than most. Perchance he also knows a girl akin to the one he describes and loves her as well. Or perchance he knows only how to compare this maid to nature because he is familiar with it. But do you see, now, the dual meanings behind it, how it can mean something stupendous to one person and something completely different but equally stupendous to another?'_

_'Or something strange and not quite as stupendous to a third?' suggested Poppy, popping out of nowhere as was her ken. _

_'Now Poppy, just because you have no appreciation for art doesn't mean Mari should be deprived of it.'_

_'And just because you're quite obsessed with it doesn't mean she should be tortured with it.'_

_'Oh, scurry off and chatter with Hal,' Lily dismissed the girl. Mari giggled, always amused when her sisters bickered. _

_'You're lucky I do,' Poppy called back to Lily as she ran off to do as she was told._

_Lily smiled slightly and settled back into the lesson. 'Alright, Mari. So does it make a bit more sense to you now; shall we go on?'_

_But Mari wasn't paying any attention to the lesson any longer. 'What did she mean, you're lucky she does?'_

_'Hmm?' asked Lily. 'Oh, nothing, just gibberish. You know Poppy.'_

_'I do. And Poppy certainly speaks in gibberish a lot, but that wasn't gibberish. What did she mean?' Mari pressed._

_Lily sighed. 'She means. . .' She thought for a moment. 'You promise not to tell?' Mari nodded emphatically. 'She means she's courting Hal to keep Mother's mind off of Frodo and I.'_

_'You and Fro-- Mr. Baggins?' Mari questioned. 'But I thought that was over and done with. I thought Mother'd quite put an end to that.'_

_'And well you should,' was all Lily responded, but she hadn't needed to say more._

Mari's gaze flicked back to her mother again and the little blanket she embroidered. It was to be a gift for her new niece, Peony's second child, expected in late Astron. How calmly she embroidered. How easily it came. How did she escape the thoughts that plagued Mari? How did she so easily forget? How did she manage to take stoicism to so very high a level? Mari thought back, involuntarily, to the day she'd betrayed her sister, regretting that she didn't share her mother's temperament and hating herself for wishing such things, at once.

_'Poppy, running off with that Hal again.'_

It echoed in her mind.

_'I don't know what she thinks she's doing, but it's got to stop.'_

She couldn't push the memory back.

'_Well, it's not as though she's serious, Mother.'_

How could she?

_'What's that, Marigold?'_

How could she have done such a thing?

_'Well, she doesn't really like Hal.'_

She'd slipped up, that's all.

_'Come again? What do you mean?'_

She'd tried to cover it up, to stop it all from unraveling.

_'I mean. . . she's just having a bit of fun. That's all. It's just a distraction.'_

But she couldn't.

_'Mari, that's not what you meant, and I know it. Now tell me the truth right this instant. From what is it a distraction exactly?'_

Her mistake had cost her sister everything.

_'Nothing. Just. . . Lily. . .'_

Almost. . . her life.

A/N: Do I even need to say it? No? Thanks in advance.


	31. A Mother's Love

Across the same silent drawing room, Susan worked diligently at the blanket

Across the same silent drawing room, Susan worked diligently at the blanket. She'd added a border right off the bat and a few clusters of small flowers cascaded over the corners. Now she examined her work and wondered what to add next. The break in her task gave way to a break in her trance and a momentary flaw in her stoic expression. She glanced across the room to her youngest daughter whose gaze was lost in the frantic firelight. She moved her concentration back to the fabric in her lap, careful not to sigh or seem upset. Strange how stitching her first blanket had seemed so natural; strange how much the second tripped her up. Little cream flowers and some of palest yellow dappled the cotton with light. Leaves, leaves of sage fanned out around them. Susan resumed her stitching and tried her best to fall back into her happy trance. It wasn't as simple as it had seemed.

_'I had a friend once whose sister lived out in Buckland. She was in that sort of situation,' gossiped Lucy Proudfoot. 'Needless to say there was a bit of trouble there.'_

_'Trouble?' Susan inquired lightly._

_'Oh, of course. There was, you know, quite a fight, but they ended up apart in the end and everything alright. I mean, there was a little aftermath, but on the whole it was quite a successful situation, considering.'_

_'Aftermath?' Susan inquired again. 'What sort?'_

_'Well,' Lucy almost whispered, 'I really shouldn't say but. . . Oh, it was just the usual, you know. Feuding and such. . . And. . . Such. . .' Lucy gave Susan a look and proceeded in her speech. 'Well, anyway, I should be going. I have to be off to the market and I really must stop by Penny's to see how she's getting on, big, I suppose with the baby coming. Well, I shall see you for tea tomorrow with the Hornblowers I hope. Until then.'_

The sage was bright. Lighter green was what she needed. Yes, lighter green would be right.

_The woods were a lonely, solemn sort of place, which neither Susan nor most hobbits liked very much to visit, but today the woods were just where Susan went. She scanned the hillside to her left, to her right, took one more glance behind her as if she feared incrimination, or worse a drop in social standing just being seen near the forest, and trudged on into the gloom. Any ordinary hobbit would of course see only gloom and darkness and drear, as did Mrs. Boffin, but as she made her way today of all days, she found herself trying to picture the gloom differently. She tried to imagine it was cozy and inviting as a warm sitting room after a chill day at the market, tried to imagine the golden sunlight the flickering glare from her own hearth -- it was, after all, of a similar hue. And Susan gave herself much credit for her efforts, though they were to no avail._

_Feeling much better about herself and far more justified in her task, her suspicions of the lunacy of her second daughter being confirmed, she pressed on more cheerily, scanning the ground intently as she went. It was not a very long while before she spotted what she had come for: the tiny plant with teardrop leaves of greyish sage speckled with pale yellow blossoms. One here, another a ways to the left, a cluster a ways to the right. She picked a bundle that filled her apron, not sure of what she would need and hoping to have too much rather than too little. Then back the way she had come she retreated, stopping at the edge of the woods to check once more for passersby, then continuing on the righteous road of conviction feeling quite splendidly clever and noble._

Greyer, greyer, and yet greyer still. Could she dye the thread to match her wish? Could she drink the dye to wish her last?

_Eight plates before her, on which she set eight bowls of soup, eight slices of bread and seven little cakes. The eighth cake for the last, fresh from the oven, on the plate farthest to the left. And eight little cups on the table, each filled up with tea, save the last with room for a little more liquid, a little more sugary-sweet boiled water, a little more yet, just a very little more. Susan went about her business taking care of her family as she always had and always planned to, the best she knew how. With her tasks now finished and feeling very confident in her success as a mother, she handed off two plates to Mari for Bella and Poppy, two for Hal and Tom, took over Lily's herself, took that one farthest to the left, one for Will and then Mari and herself, sat down to dinner and then it was done, the easy part, that is. 'So Lily, Mari, how've you been getting on with those lessons, eh?'_

A/N: Review please!


	32. Forgiving Mari

The door to the smial thudded loudly, catching both Sam and Rosie off guard

The door to the smial thudded loudly, catching both Sam and Rosie off guard. Rosie gave a slight nod to her husband, as if to say, 'I've got it,' and stepped placidly to the front room. She opened the door to a sadly smiling Marigold Boffin coming to pay a visit to her sister. 'It's not the best time now, Mari. She's bit tied up, as you might say.'

'Oh, please, Rosie, do go and fetch her. I've come all this way and it's not so very warm anymore, you know. I do so wish to speak with her,' the young girl begged. It was reluctantly that Rosie acquiesced, but at least, she thought as she went to retrieve Lily, a visit might get her in better sorts.

'Oh, Lily,' Mari exclaimed when her sister joined her in the study, Frodo's study, where a great fire roared and popped in the fireplace, where once a great trinket had rested on the mantelpiece, 'I'm so very glad to see you! I has been so long. But, but what is the matter, why so sad, sister? Are you not happy to see me? Oh, please, tell me you are not angry with me, please!'

'No, Mari,' Lily said quietly, 'I'm not angry; of course I'm not angry. It's fine, everything's fine.'

'Then what? Why so sad?'

'Frodo's take ill. It's not so bad, just a little thing. It will be over presently.' Lily belied her true feelings quite easily by now -- she had had some practice.

'Oh, well, I sure hope he feels better,' Mari wished, taking a seat next to her sister. 'How are things otherwise, then? Have you been getting on well?'

'I have.' Lily stopped and transitioned quickly. 'Mari, why are you here? You oughtn't disobey your mother like this. You know you're forbidden. But then, you're far too smart a girl to come all this way just to inquire on my health. There must be something you mean to say, something to ask, a favor maybe, or advice?'

Mari studied the ground for long moments before she sighed and blurted out, 'Oh Lily, there's something I must admit to you. Oh, I really must, but I'm afraid you'll hate me. And-- and well you should. I deserve it, but-- but-- Oh Lily, I'm afraid it's my fault. Everything is my fault. All of it, every last bit of it was me, horrid old me!'

'What are you talking about, Mari?' Lily asked with a concern in her voice that was nothing more than healthy. 'Don't say such things of yourself; you're not horrid, never horrid, far from it. Don't ever think such things, little Mari, not ever.'

'Oh, but Lily, I am,' Mari cried out in agony. 'I am. I am horrid. Look what I've done! Look what I've done!'

'What have you done?' Lily asked, reaching out to pet her sister's head.

'This, all this. You here and us estranged. Frodo ill and us not knowing, them not caring. I care. I do, Lily. Believe me, please. It was a mistake, all a silly mistake. I care, truly care. You're my sister, and-- and so he's my brother and-- Oh Lily, I'm so sorry. I never knew it would hurt you, saying those things. I didn't think it would--' Mari broke off her pleadings at the terrified, loving look on Lily's face as if she were about to lose yet someone else she loved to treachery.

'What did you say, Mari?' she asked almost too calmly.

'Oh, I think I might've told her about Poppy. No, I did. I did tell her about Poppy. I told her not to fret over Poppy and Hal, that it was just a distraction. I didn't mean to say it. It just came out and-- and I tried to cover up. I tried to tell her I though Poppy was just having a bit of fun, but she knew. Oh Lily, she knew I was fibbing and she made me tell her; she made me! I'm so sorry, Lily. She made me tell her it was just a sham, forced me to admit you were still seeing him, Frodo, I mean, forced me to say Poppy was helping you, distracting her. What can I do, Lily? What can I do to make it up to you? Please, I'll do anything, just don't be angry with me. I deserve it, I know, but please, Lily, please, just. . . Please. . .'

Lily was smiling and laughing just a very little bit. 'Mari,' she said, taking hold of her sister by the shoulders and hugging her lightly. 'Mari, I can't forgive you. There isn't anything to forgive. You didn't mean any harm. Don't worry on it, Mari. You didn't cause it -- what happened. It wasn't your fault, not in any way. I love you, Mari, as my sister and my friend, and I always will.' She laughed a little louder now. 'Now run along home before your mother misses you and think of where you've been in case she asks.'

Mari did as she was told. She ran along home, but not before catching a peek not only of Frodo ill in bed, but of dear Sam and Rosie's faces.

A/N: R&R!


	33. Cream and Golden Ghosts

'I was just over to see Lily

'I was just over to see Lily.'

'Oh, so that's why you're here. Well, don't worry. I'll lie for you. You know full well how I feel about Mother's recent decisions. Would you grab the kettle for me?' Peony said distractedly as she rushed to prepare the dinner meal while balancing her son on her hip.

'No, that's not it, Peony,' Mari tried to clarify. 'Well -- I mean, it is. I do need an alibi, but that's not really why I'm here.'

'Oh?-- Mari, the kettle! --' and Mari grabbed it from the hearth just as it was about to boil over. 'So what is it, then?' Peony continued, now handing Mari a spoon with which to stir the kettle's contents.

'Well, I dropped by to see Lily today and found Frodo's taken ill. Lily said it was nothing serious, but Peony, I caught a glimpse of him as I left and I could swear it is. And Sam and Rosie's poor faces! They looked so very frightened. And you know Rosie, always level-headed about ailments and such, being able to cure most of them. She said it wasn't really a good time for a visit when she answered the door, but I though since I'd taken such a risk, Lily might as well see me. . . and. . . Well. . . Peony, he looked so very ill and I just thought. . . Well, he's our brother now, isn't he or like it as any can be? We should be calling or helping or, well, at least we should know. . . all of us. . .' Mari's eyes begged her sister for support she knew would be a lie if it came at all.

Peony paused for the first time since Mari had entered and hesitated. She set Prisco down and, with a light tap to his backside, made him run along and play. She wiped her hands on her apron and took a seat on a stool by the stove, gesturing for Mari to sit beside her. When the younger girl was seated and listening intently, she began.

'I'm not positive I know what to say to you, Mari, nothing that's not already been said a thousand times. In my eyes, yes, Frodo is all but out brother. And, yes, we should do all those things you've said and more, just as we would for Tom or Bella or anyone. But. . . Mother feels differently, and you know it well. Not only does she consider Frodo nothing but a distant acquaintance -- and secret enemy through tradition and recent events, though she'd never be so bold as to admit it -- as far as she is concerned, Lily is no longer your sister. You will not see her without deceit, not even were she on her death bed.

'As for Frodo, I'll go 'round for tea and see what I can do, but for the rest. . . you mustn't say anything to Mother, if that's what you're thinking. First, it won't change her mind, and second, it'll get you in loads of trouble every which way you turn. You'll. . . Just have to pretend to agree until you can afford to disagree,' Peony finished semi-sympathetically and just a touch chastisingly.

An hour later after a leisurely dinner with her eldest sister's family, Mari stepped through the cottage door with a sigh. A moment was spent searching through the house for her relatives before she found her mother standing at her dresser in her room. 'Mother?' Mari called to her cautiously.

Susan quickly shoved an unrecognizable object into the drawer she stood over and slammed it shut. 'Hello, Marigold, we missed you for dinner.'

'I ate with Peony and Merimon. I'm sorry; I should have told you. I was just out for a walk and realized the time. . . Peony sends her regards, in any case.' Mari entered her mother's room slowly. 'Is something the matter?'

'No, no. Nothing's the matter,' Susan responded quickly. 'Did you see Prisco?'

'I did.'

'And how is he? Has he grown much? Does he look well? Any new conquests?' Susan took grandparental interest.

'Why, Mother, you saw him only yesterday. He hasn't grown noticeably in that time, no,' Mari returned, quite puzzled with her mother's behavior.

'Oh,' Susan chuckled a little, odd for such a normally emotionless person. 'Yes, I'd forgotten. Well, anyways, did you see Tom on your way in? Is he back yet?'

'No. . .'

'Ah, well. I certainly wish you children would tell me when you're coming and going. It would make my whole life just so much easier. . .' Susan remarked as she strode purposefully out of the room.

Mari stood bewildered in the room alone. She'd never seen her mother so flustered, or flustered at all really. Susan had always been very calm, very aloof. The world rarely seemed to touch her. She didn't even remember her crying at her father's death, or ever for that matter. At first glance, Susan seemed a normal, well-adjusted mother and widow. With a closer look, however, she was more than cold. Mari turned of a sudden from staring out the door after her mother, stepped over to the dresser, and opened the drawer which Susan had had open previously, wondering at the cause of her anxiousness. Shoved in at the top of the drawer was the little white blanket Mari'd seen her mother embroidering just a few days earlier. 'Mother,' she called, taking the blanket from the drawer and moving toward the kitchen, where she figured she'd find Susan, 'is this the blanket you're making for Peony's new baby? It's a pretty thing. Are you going to add more color, more flowers?'

'Ah, no, Mari. That's not,' Susan said snatching the fabric from her daughter's hands, 'for the baby. That's just. . . for. . . me.'

Mari stood for a long while watching her mother pocket the tiny blanket and continued with her work. Seconds ticked by, and minutes. Moments and moments of silence. 'Is it. . . for a baby?' Susan ignored her daughter at first, only continuing to kneed the bread dough she'd mixed up. 'Is it. . . for. . . Lily's baby?'

Susan slammed down her rolling pin on the countertop, vaulted forward, and slapped her youngest daughter's cheek. 'Lily has no baby.'

Mari stood frozen as Susan returned to her baking. 'I know what it does,' she said after a time in a voice so low and faraway, she barely recognized it as her own. 'Corthalen,' she continued when her mother did not respond. 'I know why you gave it to her. I know what you thought.' Mari watched her mother work as though she hadn't heard a word of her daughter's speech. 'Mother, look, there's time to make amends,' Mari tried, against Peony's advice. 'Frodo's ill. We should be there. We should go. We should help. Lily'll forgive you. She has to. She needs us now. We can still make it alright. We can still fix everything.' Mari rushed to finish her argument before the calm broke into a storm of wrath.

But the storm of wrath did not come and after a time Mari left Susan to her baking and retreated.

A/N: Review please!


	34. A Twisted Reconciliation

'It's not the best time,' had been Sam's initial response to the second visitor at the door

A/N: The title of this chapter is more foreshadowing than description of what's happening here. Otherwise, taken without that information, it might be utterly confusing.

'It's not the best time,' had been Sam's initial response to the second visitor at the door.

'I know. That's why I'm here,' Peony had responded softly as she'd pushed past him into the Hill. A short stretch of hallway brought her to an open door through which she saw her sister at the edge of a bed.

'In there,' Sam offered as though she might not already know and followed her in.

Peony ignored his words as her sister turned round on hearing them and rushed into her arms. 'I'm so sorry, Lily,' she hurried to explain, 'that I haven't been here earlier.' Lily shot a glance at the sleeping figure on the bed and pulled her sister after her from the room. In the corridor they embraced again and Peony continued her speech. 'Mari came by. She said it wasn't serious, or so you'd said. Why didn't you tell her, Lily?'

Lily collapsed in a heap on the floor and dragged herself up to sit against the oak-paneled wall. 'I didn't want her to worry,' she responded as Peony knelt down next to her. 'It wouldn't do any good, her worrying.'

'Well, she worried in any case when she saw all of your faces, and I'm glad she did and came to see me or you'd still be here alone,' Peony worried.

'I've Sam and Rosie. They're splendid; they are.' Lily defended the friends who'd taken the place of her family.

'Sam and Rosie do their best, I'm sure, and Frodo's so very close to them, well, Sam at least, but Rosie can't do everything on her own,' Peony soothed. 'But I'm here now and not going anywhere.'

Lily pulled her knees to her chest and lowered her head into her hands. 'I don't know what to do,' she whispered to her confidant. 'Rosie's tried everything, every remedy she knows and nothing. And do you know-- No, of course you don't. Peony, it's from his great voyage, his quest, as Sam calls it. Sam told me; he finally told me, and it's horrid, Peony. He was stabbed. . . A year ago. It won't go away. It won't _ever_ heal.' Peony listened, only now recalling Frodo's trip, only now feeling the danger. No ordinary ailment, this. 'Oh, Peony. I feel so very. . . grown. . . in a way, so very. . .' Lily trailed off with a sigh.

'I'm not sure I know what you mean. . .' Peony trailed off herself when she saw her sister's face. 'Lily, I. . .' and suddenly she felt, herself, so very young and naïve, as though she were a child again, but at that awkward age in which one hears adults speaking but doesn't understand what they're saying. In that moment, Peony finally understood what had come down on her sister in the past month and especially the past week and exactly what she was doomed to in the future. How very sheltered they all were in their little corner of the world and how naïve. And now Lily, after all her troubles in their own little corner of the world, had been thrust unknowing into the East. Frodo'd been kind to keep it from her; he'd tried, at least. In the end it'd had to be said, but Peony lamented it still.

'I am,' she began finally, 'so very sorry, Lily, for everything that has been dropped on you. Sitting next to you, I must confess, I feel a child. Commending you now does not much, I know, but I don't have much else. I am not skilled like Rosie; I have no truths like Sam. All I have is my presence, which I hope will do some good.' Peony paused to wipe her sister's cheeks free of tears. 'Do you want something? Some water? Some tea?' Lily shook her head. 'Come to the kitchen then at least and eat something. How long since you've slept?' asked Peony as she pulled the younger girl to her feet, but was interrupted by a loud and persistent knocking at the door. 'I'll get it,' she assured Rosie, who had emerged from the bedroom at the sound, and to Lily, 'I'll meet you shortly in the kitchen.'

Once they had parted, Peony moved forward to the much abused door in the front room, checked her features for traces of lingering fear, and pulled open the heavy green door to reveal, 'Mother.'

'I heard Frodo is ill. I've come to call. I see you've done the same,' Susan explained and chastised at once.

'I've. . . come to help,' Peony responded solemnly.

'Well, may I wish the boy well?' Susan asked imprudently, and at a bluntly negative response, exclaimed, 'Well, what do you mean?! I've come all this way to be a good neighbor. I'm coming in to wish him well.' Susan tried to push past her eldest daughter, but was stopped.

'Mother,' Peony told her quietly, calmly, 'you can't. He's really in no shape for visitors. No,' she cut off the protest preemptively. 'You don't understand. It's more serious than you think.'

'Well, what exactly is the matter?'

'He was stabbed--'

'What?! By whom?'

'--a year ago.' Susan sobered. 'He's ill from it again now, and it's quite horrid.'

'Well, that's quite unfortunate. Give him my regards then, and I'll--'

'Mother,' Peony interrupted, 'don't you want to see Lily?'

'Sorry, who?' Susan said with an affected chill in her voice.

'Lily,' came an intruding voice from the corridor, 'your daughter,' and Frodo was in the arching doorway clutching his left shoulder, leaning against the wall, barely managing to stay upright.

Peony rushed forward to help him. 'Dear Frodo, what are you doing out of bed?'

He cringed as she touched his left arm lightly and lifted it over her head to support him. 'I heard Susan's voice. I heard you say I wasn't well enough.--' He sucked in air quickly through his teeth as he shifted his weight. 'I wanted to speak with her.'

'Frodo!' Susan exclaimed amicably as thought the sight before her affected her not at all. 'I'm glad to see you up. I heard you were ailing. I've come to wish you well.'

'Lily, your daughter.' Frodo ignored the change in topic. 'She's in the kitchen, I believe. She's been really courageous through all of this--' He winced again. '--desertion.' Peony looked worriedly at him, trying to shift his position a bit to cause him less pain. It didn't help, but he pressed on. 'To come this close and not see her. . . Now you can't allow that. If you truly cared nothing for her anymore as you pretend you would never have come here. I'm not ignorant of tradition, Susan. To keep up appearances you'd only have inquired to Rosie in town or at a tea, elsewise you had no obligation. I can't say how your daughter will react to seeing you, Susan; by rights she should throw a fit and run you out of the house. But she should decide that for herself, and she deserves the chance. Will you really walk out of here without seeing her? Are you as proud as all that?' If the answer was yes, he thought to himself, he'd wish the blade had pierced his heart.

The three stood in silence for a long while, each wondering who would be first to speak, thinking of what could be said. Then a weak, young voice filtered in from somewhere in the back of the smial. 'Peony?' it inquired. 'Are you coming?'

'In a moment,' Peony called softly back.

'Who is it at the door?'

Long seconds ticked by. She could not answer. She had to give her mother the chance to step forward. But to tell Lily Susan had been there and not seen her, shunned her once again? No. Not for the world. More long seconds. And more. Then finally.

'I only meant the best, only meant to help,' Susan admitted. The words sounded odd in her unaffected tone, but the company of the front room knew what lay underneath. 'I. . . never wished her any harm.' And Susan turned precisely on her heal and was gone.

'Peony? Who is it at the door?'

'No one, really,' Peony called to her sister in a sad sort of far-off tone. 'One of Rosie's distant cousins calling arbitrarily. Nothing important. I've sent him away, told him it's not a good time. . .' her voice faded into a whisper at the last and she stared at the great green door until she thought her eyes might see nothing else for as long as she lived. Then she turned to Frodo beside her.

She took him back into the bedroom and made him lay out on the bed. 'It was a good show what you put on back there,' she noted. 'But then I'm sure you've seen worse than this.'

'What do you mean by that?' he asked her.

'On your quest,' she responded, pulling the blankets up over him. 'Big things, I hear.'

Frodo sighed. 'Things no one was supposed to hear.'

'I don't know the half of anything, Frodo,' she assured him. 'Sam didn't tell me. He told Lily, but she won't repeat it. And even that I wouldn't worry about. Lily knows there are things he's keeping from her, but I don't think she suspects just how many thing there are.' Peony sat down on the edge of the bed and folded her hands calmly in her lap.

'And how is it you know how much he's keeping from her if you don't know the half of any of it?' Frodo asked skeptically.

Now Peony sighed. 'Because you and I are in the same place, Frodo, as far as Lily goes, or mostly, at least. My secrets are lesser things and things it's likely she'll never need to know, but my truths are as important as yours if not more so.'

Frodo would have chuckled at her cryptic manner if he'd been feeling better. 'Then I guess I'm lucky to have you on my side,' he said softly.

Peony watched him for a moment, then nodded. 'Yes,' she agreed. 'I am on your side. But not for the reasons you think.'

Frodo shifted his position on the bed. 'Then for what reason are you with me?'

'That matters little if at all,' Peony avoided.

'It is a small thing, perhaps, in the grand scheme of my life, but something very large in yours, I think,' Frodo estimated. 'Tell me, Peony, are all of my good points circumstantial?'

Peony shook her head and smiled. 'Who ever said you had any good points, Mr. Baggins?'

A/N: Please review!


	35. The Great Green Door

The great green door had had but a night to recuperate from its sudden abuse, when another visitor fell upon it

The great green door had had but a night to recuperate from its sudden abuse, when another visitor fell upon it. This visitor, however, recalled not the slightest memory of the previous one with her light tapping. 'Mr. Baggins,' Bella greeted when the great green door groaned open.

'Bella,' the greeting came back as Frodo stepped tentatively out into the morning light. He looked, Bella thought, in his burgundy silk morning robe, as princely as every she'd seen him, far more princely than any other she'd seen in her corner of the world. The image recalled to her the days of dear Frodo's timely return and the hobbits' triumph over Sharkey and the rest. Bella pulled herself from her reverie with a great effort, hardly believing the hobbit before her was true flesh and blood, not some carved marble visage of a great bygone king, if they might have had kings in their corner. 'Mr. Baggins,' she began again, 'I've been sent to request your presence at the cottage as soon as you are well. Come alone and come soon,' she intoned and turned to leave, but added as an after thought, 'And don't. . . mention it to Lily.'

Frodo only stood and watched the maid walk away. Frodo reentered the smial and the great green door groaned shut, the young sun shining coolly on its age-weathered front, Frodo leaning heavily against its more protected back, exhausted from the effort that small errand had cost him and wishing for once simply to be left alone to rest.

A/N: Please review!


	36. Behind Door Number Two

Another door, browner, newer, and quite less round, bore the quick, light rapping of a well-expected visitor

Another door, browner, newer, and quite less round, bore the quick, light rapping of a well-expected visitor. 'I have something for you,' were the first words spoken inside the cottage.

'Susan, why have you called me here all alone, why in secret from Lily?' Frodo ignored her previous statement. 'I've come here to contest your actions far more than at your request. Why do you plague her like this? Haven't you hurt her enough?'

'Mr. Baggins, I must emphatically disagree with you,' Susan responded in a voice which was anything but emphatic. 'I've done nothing in this to hurt the girl, only to help her.'

'Help her? How help her when you beg my lies?'

'By what I offer in return.'

'There is nothing which can be given in return to warrant my lies to her, nothing in the world, in the whole of Middle Earth,' Frodo asserted painfully. 'All other lies and deceit which have come her way she has endured and mine too, if I made her, but with so many lies on account of me in the first, and even if there were not, how could I? How can I? You'd wish it, I'm sure. You always have wished ill on us. I know; it is tradition, after all,' he spat resentfully back at her, wondering why he hadn't reported Bella's call at the Hill to Lily in the first place.

'Mr. Baggins, I tell you this. My request was necessary. If Lily had known you were coming, chances are she'd've come along. . . Or at least demanded an account when you returned. This, young Mr. Baggins, would wreck my purpose, and yours, if I may guess that much,' Susan explained calmly, smugly.

'Young Mr. Baggins' purpose is to love her,' he contested, abhorring her condescension.

'Young Mr. Baggins' purpose,' Susan corrected, 'is to marry her.'

'Love? Marry? I loved her when I thought I'd never have her, far more than I can say for you when you did. But, let me guess, your purpose, once again, is to keep us apart with some newfangled ploy,' he said as he followed his host deeper into the cottage.

'No,' she said.

'Odd, you're usually more blunt,' and Frodo was usually less cocky.

'Mr. Baggins, leave now if you don't care to know what exactly my purpose was in calling you here. I don't need your scorn.'

'Good day, then,' Frodo farewelled and turned on his heal as Susan had days earlier to leave.

'Wait,' the older hobbit called after him. Frodo only turned stood in calm defiance on the walk. 'I asked you here because I have something for you. You don't have to say anything at all, and you aren't bound to use it as I think and wish you might. But only take it,' and she thrust as a small package bound in brown paper and string into his hands.

'What is it?' he inquired coldly.

'My wedding ring.'

A/N: Reeeeeview!


	37. The Great Trinket

A/N: Review

A/N: Sharkey was what the hobbits called Saruman when he took over the Shire.

Frodo tugged lightly at the strings of the brown paper package. All the way home it had lain heavily in his palm, beckoning him to it. Remarkable how much little bands of metal seemed to control his life. Lighter than the last and by far less evil it was, however, its equal in power. A little tug more and the strings fell from their lofty knot, the paper opening as a flower in the palm of his hand, and in the center, the thin gold band fixed with a single stone in the center. It was a goodly size; the Boffins had, after all, been quite a prominent and well-off family before Sharkey. 'Sharkey,' he whispered to himself and smiled at the irony. 'Old man.'

'Wha's that, Mr. Frodo, sir?' Sam asked from the door where he'd stopped upon hearing his friend's quiet voice in its well-known contemplative tone.

'Oh nothing, Sam, just a thought,' he responded, fingering his ring. 'The etymology of the word "Sharkey" and he slid the ring into his vest pocket. 'Sam, what do you think about our current situation?'

'What situation's 'at, Mr. Frodo?' he asked, stepping farther into the room and committing to the conversation.

'You and I and Rosie and Lily. . . Here.'

'Well, I think it's. . . I think it's quite nice, Mr. Frodo, don' you?'

'I have. . . And I do. . . And I don't.' Frodo began to pace.

'I don' think I know what you mean.'

'You remember. . . When you found us, don't you?' Sam only turned away. 'I know you were. . . disappointed in us, in me. . .'

'Oh, Mr. Frodo, don' think that at all. I don' presume t' be disappoin'ed in you,' Sam urged quickly, spinning about. Then he explained, 'It's simple fer a gard'ner. Find a girl ya like and marry 'er. Ya know exactly who and what are within yer reach. For you there are rules. It's all very complicated, I'm sure, and I'm 'appy not knowin' what it's like. In any case, I've no right to judge you fer what I know nothin' about. An' even if I did know. . .' His voice trailed off, but his mind continued, _'I'd 'ave no right to challenge you for anythin'. . . After all you've done.'_

'Well, it would be alright if you did,' Frodo explained. 'It's no surprise most others would, and badly. To whit, I've meant to ask a favor of you, Sam.'

'What, Mr. Frodo?'

Frodo hesitated, thinking deeply on his request. 'What do they say, Sam, of Lily and I? In the inns and pubs, at Lucy Goodbody's teas and out along the roads. There must be talk, I know, but I've not been about much of late, having no cause of it, and I have not heard. Tell me, Sam, if you would, what is the common word?'

A simple enough request, Frodo's, yet it tripped Sam up so. Which way first? 'Ther' are some,' he began, 'who say it's some great shame and talk as if they were somethin' better. Ther' are. . . those 'ho say what else would be expected of Mad Baggins and 'ho only say such a shame about poor, young Lily bein' brought along withal. "Trouble started with ol' Mr. Boffin's death," they say, "an' was only made worse by the Mayor's imprisonment and such. Sad 'ow the fam'ly's fallen from grace," they say. Then,' he paused to consider, 'ther' are those 'ho deny th' 'ole thing. "The Boffins were such a splendid fam'ly," they say, "but right indeed they've fallen and er not so splendid anymore." An' they say yer bein' wondrous kind takin' the girl in now 'er mother's lost 'er wits. "Frodo's a bachelor fer life," they say, " after ol' Bilbo. It's 'is ken."' he finished at last.

'And what do you think of us, Sam?' Frodo asked quietly, his left hand involuntarily reaching into his vest pocket to finger the ring.

'I think yer in love, Mr. Frodo, sir. What matters more 'an that? You were always encouragin' me to go after Rosie before everythin'.'

Frodo smiled sort of nervously. 'What do you think they'd say to a wedding?'

Sam's face lit up for joy. 'Yer goin' to be married?! Why didn't ya say so in the first place? This is. . . splendid! An'. . . all 'obbits love a wedding! But when did you ever care about the rest, eh?'

'Sam, I've not asked her yet.'

'Well, what er ya talkin' t' me for? Go ask 'er!' he urged his friend and comrade excitedly.

'I'm not so sure, Sam,' Frodo said in the small, quiet manner he always assumed when he felt insignificant and unworthy.

'What do you mean? I-- Mr. Frodo, what do you mean you're not sure?

Frodo crossed the room hesitantly. 'Things have changed.' Again he hesitated.

'Well, Frodo. . . Don't you love her?' Sam asked earnestly.

'Of course, Sam, of course I do!' Frodo said vehemently, spinning about. 'It's just. . .' He looked down at his hands touching just at the fingertips before him, at all but his middle finger. '. . .I'm not so sure. . . she loves me.' Sam stepped forward toward his friend with furrowed brow, questioning silently. 'She's so very young,' Frodo began slowly to explain. 'It is the tendency of the young to love freely. . . and then. . . not to love.' He sighed. 'I know what it is to be young and in love,' and at the last word he mocked quotation makes as best he could. 'I shall not say I have not done the same.' He turned away from Sam again. 'It is her right. . . ss it is every free person's--' and the flash of memory came back to Sam at those words, _free persons_ '--to. . . change her mind. But I am not young, Sam,' he spoke looking up through his dark lashes at his friend, who had come round in front of him, 'and if she does not love me--' his voice dropped to a whisper at the last. 'Sam, I--'

'She loves you,' Sam said softly, but Frodo only shook his head, in a shower of molasses curls. 'She does. She loves you!' Sam insisted.

'And how do you know, Sam? Is it not more likely I'm. . . a fling?' he asked with a touch of disgust and quite more depression, 'a youthful discretion? An. . . adventure?' Ah, yes, an adventure. For they were very alike, the two of them. And now he'd come to be in some ways so very like dear Bilbo, a mysterious entity with plentiful stories and a plethora of strange occurrences. Aye, that would do to wet curiosities.

'No, Mr. Frodo, sir. She does. She loves you.'

'But how, Sam, how do you know? Or is it just conjecture?' he snapped and lunged forward. Then, closing his eyes lightly and sighing, he apologized dejectedly, to which Sam responded quietly:

'How do you know she doesn't?'

A moment of stillness passed then as Frodo brought himself up out of his depression. When he finally stirred, his movements were slow and purposeful, almost painfully thought out. He reached into his left vest pocket and pulled out the great trinket on which his fate hung. 'Well, Sam,' he said quietly, fingering the gold lightly, 'do I do it?' and he held out the ring at arm's length as if both showing it off to his friend and reviling it from himself.

'Sweet Mother of Mercy,' came a breathless phrase from the doorway. Rosie stood beaming there. 'The world's come a-rights again!'

A/N: Is this me begging for reviews thing getting annoying at all? Because you points finger like classic Uncle Sam have the power to stop it! I should make posters.


	38. The Monumental Thought

'Lily

The Monumental Thought

'Lily!' Rosie called quickly.

'Don't--' Sam tried to tell her, but she, in her jubilance, paid no heed.

'Frodo wants to see you!' and then, to Sam, 'What? Did he have something special planned?' and to Frodo, 'Did you? Well she doesn't need anything special, in any case. She just needs you and your words and that's enough. A string would suffice a ring for that poor girl. But that one there's gorgeous. Oh, I'm giddy. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it! Finally, after all of this!' And during all of this Sam was there trying to hush his overexcited wife so as not to ruin the surprise of it, at least. Frodo, however, stood by with growing confidence and a continuously broadening smile.

'I guess I do it,' he stated purposefully and started up by the thought that his words might have been heard by his Lily, now in the doorway.

'Believe what?' she asked innocently, and he breathed a sigh of relief to know that Rosie's boisterous exclamations had at least served some purpose.

'That it's nigh on winter a'ready,' Sam lied.

'But why does she--'

Lily was cut off by Sam's 'There's a matter t' be discussed an' we've no right intruding' on it, or puttin' off fer that matter, and in any case there er leaves outside need rakin' and supper needs makin'. We'll be off,' and he took Rosie by the wrist and pulled her along after him like a disappointed child.

'But she--' Lily turned to Frodo. '_What_ is going _on_?'

'I wanted a word with you,' he explained in a falsely confident tone. 'I was at the cottage today. . . to see your mother,' and at her surprised and slightly hurt expression, 'Now, Lily, oh please, don't be angry,' as if to a child.

'I'm not angry. I just--' Lily shook her head.

'I only went at her request and only on your behalf. I went to tell her how really atrocious she's been, but. . . the conversation changed a little in the speaking.' Frodo looked down at his hands before him touching only lightly at the fingertips as before. He'd lost his momentum and, with it, his conviction. He flexed his fingers out of their nervous condition. 'Lily, I--' he began, sounding now more himself than contrived.

At his uneasy tone, Lily stepped forward and looked up into his great blue eyes, searching for the cause of his demeanor. She clasped her fingers into his and found him shaking. 'Frodo--?'

He closed his mouth resolutely and shut his eyes a moment before speaking. 'Something for you on the mantle, there,' he intoned quietly. Lily turned her head first and, with nothing specific catching her eye, turned back to Frodo. His eyes were still shut, but his hands shook less. Finally she broke away and Frodo raised his gaze to where he had set the trinket minutes before in the shuffle.

A moment, then, before Lily grasped the trinket in her fingers and, slack-jawed and quite confused, turned slowly to her Frodo. 'She gave you this?' she barely managed.

He gave a nod of concurrence and said, 'Aye, she gave it to me.'

'And you accepted it?' It seemed a strange question to Frodo , and even to Lily as she asked it.

'It was not mine to deny.' He admitted this truthfully, though perchance she saw other truths, deeper motives. And then, at last, 'Marry me, Lily, as you wanted so long ago. My heart has not changed; it is true and shall be after. Tell me you feel the same. Marry me. Do,' he supplicated earnestly to her, stepping forward as he did so. 'Though your mother despise us, though the talk be our madness, though the whole of Middle Earth be against us, marry me, Lily, and we'll be together.'

A long moment and a slow gasp of breath from the girl. Frodo's pulse loud enough to be heard throughout the Shire. Furrowed eyebrows and nervous hands respectively. 'Frodo. . .' she spoke shakily. 'We're already together.'

A/N: Oh dear. Well, that's interesting. . . So interesting that you should review. D


	39. Possession

'Mother, really, what are we doing

'Mother, really, _what_ are we doing? This is all very silly.'

'Poppy, hush. There are things I wish you each to have and now is the time for giving them,' Susan responded unabashedly.

'Posh, Mother,' Poppy rebelled. 'That's right, posh. There has got to be something else. Giving everything away to us now? I think not. That's just folly, an excuse to get us together. What's the real matter?'

'I'd not ask,' commented Mari, nudging her sister with her elbow, 'or you might be ejected from the will for love of Hal.' Mari had, as usual, assumer the feelings of her idol, Poppy, against her mother's actions and treatment of their elder sister. And Poppy, now knowing the thrill of forbidden love, took justified side toward the cause of her sister and begrudged her mother her loss.

'The real matter is,' Susan stated clearly, either not having heard or pretending not to have heard her youngest daughter's comment, 'I feel bogged down in a world of clutter. All these great things we have which filled our old house nicely clutter the cottage. I have no use for them, so I am giving them to you.'

'Ah, but how does that serve to clear the house from clutter as five of the eight of us are still living at home?' Poppy provoked her.

'I give these things to those five of the seven of you now so that when you are grown and leave the house you may know what you have a right to.'

'But why not simply tell us what is ours when the time comes?' asked Mari, following Poppy's lead.

'And what will you be left with when we are all gone?' put in Poppy mischievously.

'Oh, hush, girls, and never mind that. Can't a mother give her children gifts?'

'Not as a bribe,' Mari mentioned aside to Poppy.

'Mother, I'm glad of your gifts, though others may not be. Let us proceed,' Bella brownnosed in her usual manner.

'Very well. We shall go by age,' Susan began. 'Peony, the chest over there, my grandmother's settee, and a set of China were to be your wedding gifts. I am sorry that things took a turn which prevented these gifts from you. The former two I can give now to remedy that, and for the latter there is money set aside. Also, Peony, there is a necklace here,' and she held it out to her and dropped it into her palm.

_Susan rushed about the kitchen like a madwoman preparing for tea. A figure in her way caused her almost to spill her scalding water. 'Tim! You've scared me half to death! Wait in the next room, would you? I've so much to do here.'_

_'I need a word, Sue,' Tim replied, following her around the room._

_'Now? Tim, can't it wait? We've company coming and I want everything to be perfect,' and she rushed off the pull the seedcakes from the oven._

_'No, now, Sue. It won't take a minute.'_

_'Fine, then, what is it?' Susan paused her scurry and wiped her hands on her frock. _

_'I've something for you here,' and he held out a tiny package. A bit of unwrapping revealed a little white gem accented by a tinier ruby on a chain of gold._

_'What is this?' Susan exclaimed._

_'To commemorate the occasion of our first child,' Tim explained, 'and. . . because I love you.' Susan beamed at her husband, having completely forgotten her rush._

'Your father. . . You father gave it to me to celebrate our first news of you. . .' she trailed off in memory but quickly snapped herself back.

'Tim,' she addressed her eldest son. She indicated a few inconsequential items of furniture before addressing the more important item. 'Your father left behind quite numerous things when he went and, looking through them, I've picked something specific out for each of you boys. The rest you may divide amongst yourselves as you see fit. Or something for Merimon, perhaps. In any case, Tim, there's a humidor that's been passed down in the family by tradition to the eldest son. It's usually a wedding gift as it was for you father, but, well. . . I'll give it now in any case. It's behind you on the table.' Tim turned and fingered the antique humidor, carefully examining its carvings.

_'Tim, son, there's something you ought to have now you've a home to keep it in and a wife to stand beside it,' Tim's father, also Tim as every eldest Boffin boy, broached. 'This humidor has belonged to every Tilman all the way back to my grandfather's grandfather. Now it's yours. Congratulations on your victory --' he nudged his son proudly '--and, Susan, welcome to the family. I'm sure you'll make my son a worthy wife.'_

'Thank you, Mother,' Tim smiled to her, turning from his gift.

Susan started and then nodded quickly as if to say, 'It's nothing.' Then she breathed deeply for a moment and continued. 'Poppy, my dear,' and she turned to the girl. 'Numerous furnishings are there in that corner for you when you've a home of your own: the Whitfoot family's dining set, your grandmother Boffin's table linens, candlesticks and other such things. And then there are these,' and she removed from the table next to her a set of stunning sapphire earrings. 'I remember my mother when I was a child: she was so very lovely and so full of life. You remind me of her in so many ways, Poppy, not only in physical resemblance, but in your wit and spunk and zest for life. These were the earrings my father gave her at their wedding. They were meant for parties and special occasions, but she wore them everyday. Oh, she received many a disdainful glance at the market and there was some little talk of her being uppity, but she didn't care. She loved these earrings as she loved my father. She told me she would never take them off, and she never did. . . until the day she died and then gave them to me.'

Poppy took the jewels placidly, not seeing the value in a fuss. 'Put them on, won't you?' her mother entreated. With a heavy sigh and a roll of her eyes, she did as she was bidden, and Susan was suddenly a small child again, looking up at her mother from where she clung amidst her skirts.

'Hal,' she whispered with smiling eyes still focused on Poppy. 'Your various pieces are grouped over there,' and she pointed across the room, at last managing to drag her gaze away from her middle daughter. 'I doubt you care to hear me explain the significance of each of them. Among them, however, is the pipe you are to receive at your coming of age. Besides that,' she continued, 'I know you've developed quite the palate for spirits. It's not something I'm sure I completely approve of, but, nevertheless, I've something to advance it. Your father had quite the collection of brandy, I'm sure you know, and, so long as you promise to be responsible with it, it's yours.' A smile was growing on Hal's face. 'Now, it's a collection, mind you, for special occasions. The bottles start at your father's coming of age and tell almost the story of his life from then on. He didn't drink them very often, when each of you were born, at weddings, engagements, special times, like I said. As a prominent businessman he'd bring out the brandy for important dignitaries and clients, as well. I see great potential in you, Hal, and I hope you have the same luck. I think you will. . . with a good wife behind you.'

'Thank you, Mother! Thank you!' Hal burst out, barely able to contain himself. 'I'll take care of it, I promise! I'll keep and cherish it and add to it; I will! You'll be proud!'

Susan smiled to see his naïve enthusiasm, glad not to see it fade. 'I'm sure you will,' she assured him before moving on. 'Darling Bella,' she doted. 'There are some trinkets and myriad furnishings for you as well, my bedroom set and the good china included. But mainly, for you, I've a locket. You're growing up, and quickly. You'll have your first beau soon. My first beau gave me this.'

_Susan hid just outside the door, eavesdropping, barely able to keep silent in her excitement. 'I'm sure you know there's a party tomorrow. Everyone's going. I assume you are as well,' Dandy Grubb lead into his topic. 'I. . . was hoping. . . I wondered if I might. . . accompany. . . your daughter. . . Susan. . . to the party.'_

_Dandy Grubb was visibly shaking in his boots before a younger Will Whitfoot, but he stuck out the elder's piercing gaze with courage. Moment after moment of glaring. Finally the answer: 'No.'_

_Dandy was taken aback. He'd been nervous, yes, but he'd never actually expected a no. He only stood slack-jawed, groping for words. Behind the door, Susan stood in the same manner. 'Unless--' Hope returned and the young hobbits' mouths snapped shut. '--you stay for dinner,' and Will smiled at the boy, amused by his cruel joke, but kept from laughing. . . at least to his face. Will moved aside to let the stunned boy enter, and in response he received only an insecure nod. _

_A moment later Dandy was standing in the front room alone -- Will had been called off by a problem with one of the younger children -- but not for long. Almost the moment her father was gone, Lily sprung out from her hiding place and ran over to Dandy. She was nearly squealing with delight. 'I'm so happy, Dandy. What did I tell you? Oh, I'm in the clouds!' she exclaimed to him._

_Dandy smiled weakly at him, still shaken by his near rejection. 'I'm very glad, too, Susan,' he responded and reached into his pocket. 'And now that I've spoken to your father,' he pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle as he spoke, 'you can wear this.' Susan opened the bundle inquisitively and a bit eagerly when he gave it to her. A round locket of tarnished gold hung from a matching chain before her and she gasped with excitement. A click of the latch and it opened and there was Dandy smiling back at her. 'It was my sister's. She gave it to me for you,' he explained. 'Sorry about the condition, but I didn't have time to polish it.'_

_'Oh, Dandy, I love it!' Susan gushed. 'It's better tarnished; it really is. I wouldn't have it any other way.'_

_'I could clean it for tomorrow if you--'_

_'No! No, it's perfect.'_

'Just promise me you won't polish it.'

'I wouldn't think of it, Mother. Thank you,' Bella said taking the locket and fastening it about her neck.

Susan then turned to Tom, still half in her reverie. 'My dear Tom,' she smiled. 'My little boy. But not such a little boy anymore, eh? Growing into a fine young man.' She paused to search his features for memories. 'I'll just get to the point then with you. I see you're jumping nearly out of your skin for anticipation. Your father's pipe. On the table over there.' She gestured. 'It was his favorite thing after a hard days' work to come home to a good dinner and a long smoke. You were young when her went, are young now after these long years. You barely got a chance to know him. I regret that every day. A boy needs his father.' She paused and cast her eyes to the ground. 'I hope,' she said after a minute or so, 'that you will remember him through this.'

A silence filled the room and no one dared speak for a moment for the potency of the words. Then a whispered, 'Thank you, Mother,' floated through the air.

Another minute of pungent silence and then Susan continued on her quest. 'Marigold,' she intoned. 'Little Mari. My youngest. My baby. My heart.' She smiled sadly. 'Along with the items in the sitting room, this,' and she removed the object from the table beside her, 'is for you.' Mari took it. 'It is a music box,' Susan stated, 'which used to sing me to sleep at night. My mother was always very busy with all of the children at bedtime and didn't have the time to sing to each of us individually, so when I grew older, she had to forgo her time with me to put the younger children to sleep. Because she knew how very much I liked to be sung to sleep, she bought me this as a present. The tune is the exact one she always used to sing and the one I sang to each of you in turn, but the words have been forgotten. Maybe one day you will run across some in one of those books of yours that fit.' Susan said almost wistfully.

Mari opened the box and a light tune danced through the air as if on a breeze as the gold plated gears turned and clicked and danced brightly along with it. 'I remember,' she told her mother proudly, her tongue losing its bite for the moment. 'I will not forget.'

Hours later, after the other children had scattered and the sun had set, Bella approached her Mother. 'What of the ring?' she asked in a low, sort of cynical tone.

'The ring is where it ought be.'

'That ring was to be mine, Mother,' Bella protested. 'You told me so long ago. You promised. Your wedding ring was to be mine.'

'Do not fret, my Bella. You got your fair share.'

'But not the ring!'

'The ring is not for you, my dear.'

'Then who? Who of all of them have stuck by you always, not rebelled, never challenged, never questioned? Who has been the perfect child? Peony? Peony with her abandonment of you as soon as she got a family of her own? Or Tom with his constant embarrassing shenanigans? Or maybe Poppy or Mari with their brazen contrariness?'

'You have been a wonderful child to have, my Bella, dear. You've been a blessing.'

'Then why, Mother, would you take this from me?!'

'I owed it to your sister, Bella,' Susan responded quietly, simply. 'I owed it to Lily.'

Little did either of them know that down the long road to Bag End, Lily too was fighting over possession.

A/N: So? Yeah. Long. That would be one reason it was a bitch to write. Another would be the bazillion characters, some of whom we've never seen before and I had to develop right then and there. Yet another would be that I'm a little OCD so accuracy was key. Can't use Scotch because it's specifically made in Scotland. Is there a Scotland in Middle Earth? No. Still another reason is I had to come up with something for her to give each of her children. And then I had to come up with a back story for it and a reason why she would give it to that child. If you ask me, she was too darn fertile. Geez. Well, I hope it was worth it. I tried to give you a little insight into Susan's life and why she is who she is and does what she does through the flashbacks and her remembrances to the others. I love flashbacks. Yay! Also there is some foreshadowing if you can guess it. This is an exceedingly long author's note. But it is an exceedingly long chapter. For me at least. In any case, I shall stop now. Please review!


	40. The Black Veil

'I'm yours

'I'm yours. You already have me. Why do you need a big show?'

'I just-- I thought you'd be happy. I want the world to know, the whole of Middle Earth. I always have. I thought. . . I thought this was the plan. I thought you wanted it as well.'

'I don't-- I don't need some silly ceremony. The world has turned its back on us, Frodo. Can't you see that? After all these years of it already having its back turned on you? I've accepted it. I don't need the world. I don't need any of them. I don't need--' Lily broke off with a sigh. 'I've accepted it. So should you.'

Frodo smiled a little, thinking Lily knew so very little of his life. If the Shire had turned its back on him, the world had only embraced him more than any other. Then his smile faded in thought. His worst fear was being realized and yet. . . it wasn't real. Something about his Lily, not in her words, but in her silence, the way she paused, the things she didn't say. Things were not as they seemed. 'Lily,' he tried, stepping forward, 'your mother-- she gave me the ring because she--'

'My mother. . . lives in the past, in every meaning of the phrase,' Lily asserted.

But Frodo would not have it. 'Your mother wants to make amends.'

'My mother is a fool.'

'Lily, Susan. . . she was wrong. And what happened. . . it was horrible, but you can't hide forever. And you can't use her as an excuse. You can't deprive yourself of more life and blame her.'

Lily only stood facing the wall, hands on the mantle of the hearth, wishing she had something to say. 'Lily. . .' Frodo groped for something to comfort her, or just something to say. Why wouldn't she talk to him? What had happened that had brought them to this? And when? Just yesterday she had been a sweet and trusting girl with a zest for life and a courage that no one expected. When had she become so closed? When had she become. . . alone? Frodo had been there; he wouldn't wish it on anyone, let alone his Lily. But Lily had brought him out of it, hadn't she? He had to save her from this. 'I love you.'

Lily turned to stare at him. It was not what she'd expected. It was not a protest. 'I love you,' she responded. 'Do you doubt it?' Frodo simply shook his head. 'I don't understand.'

'I love you,' she repeated earnestly.

'You've said that,' he responded softly, unsure.

'Do you doubt it?' she asked, knowing he did.

'Why would you. . ?' he began, but was stopped.

'I love you,' she said again.

'I know,' he agreed.

'Do you?' She still didn't quite believe him.

'I do,' he assured her softly, and then began again. 'Marry me.'

'Frodo--'

'What are you afraid of, Lily? There needn't be a ceremony if you don't want one. If you don't want to include the world that's fine. It's true we don't need them. But Lily, your family is your family, and there are bridges that need building,' he urged.

'Frodo--'

'Lily, I'm not going to allow you to alienate yourself from everything you know.'

'I don't know them anymore!' Lily broke. 'They're not who I knew, not who I thought they were, and I don't want to know any more about who they truly are. I'm through with that life. I have you now and I have Sam and Rosie. I have friends. And there's still Peony. I have a good life for once filled with truth, not lies and not overreaching expectations and glorious dreams of forgotten prestige and--' she gasped. 'And--' she fought to keep control. 'I--' It was a battle she had to lose. She collapsed in a heap of sobs in Frodo's arms. 'I can't remember. . . who I am.'

Frodo cooed to his Lily as he held her in his arms. 'You are Lily. You are bright and clever and strong and courageous. And you are everything to me.' Frodo clutched her head to his chest and remembered the naïve girl sitting under the Party Tree. The world had been cruel to her. She would never heal completely. But then, neither would he. But even in the shadow of all he'd been through, Frodo never once doubted the gravity of her wounds. Innumerable expectations, a love forbidden for centuries-old traditions, an ailment at the hands of those closest to her which almost cost her her life, and then separation, alienation, isolation.

Frodo broke out of his reverie and realized that Lily had quieted and was looking up at him with sad and quietly questioning eyes. 'I do not know who I am, but I know who I want to be,' she whispered, Frodo lightly took in breath in apprehension. 'So I'm going to say yes.'

'Yes?' Frodo asked with a growing smile.

'Yes.'

'Frodo! Lily! There's new I-- I have to--' Rosie barged in breathlessly. 'Lily,' she said heavily. Lily, rose and crossed the room to grasp Rosie's worried hands as she composed herself form the trying conversation. Lily's face contorted as she heard the words, and Frodo tried to rise confusedly but could not. 'Lily, your mother's-- she's dead.'

And Sam in the doorway looked to the scene before him and mumbled softly under his breath, 'I suppose it is to be a black veil, then.'

A/N: Gimme an R!


	41. The Lovely Bones

A/N: I've been letting myself off the hook posting-wise for the summer

The earth was cold. She hadn't expected it to be so cold. Above her, faces stared down, relentless in their teary reminiscence. New black frocks never to be worn again and sharp black coats and jackets, wasteful but compulsive acts of duty and of tradition. Susan's purpose lived on after her among the younger generations whose parents had not failed them. Cold again. So cold. But she watched; she stayed; she waited. Her children lined up in a row at the front of the crowd, leading the mourning keening, most of them at least. Her third child stood at the back of the crowd, a cold and untouched expression on her face. So the ring hadn't been received as she'd hoped it would be. Well, what did it matter now? It was done. It was all done.

_The embers of the fire sputtered and died, the remaining touches of warm, red glow finally deserting the room. Susan sat alone in the darkness. The other occupants of the house were all asleep by that time, and Susan couldn't care less if the fire went out; she was far too consumed by her thoughts. Her house was still full, most of the inheritances not having been removed at that point, but it seemed, finally, very empty. She lifted from her lap the blanket in which her hands were forgetfully entwined and examined it's embroidery. The cream and pale golden ghosts danced as in a breezy meadow. Tiny flowers, monochromatic and pastel little stars as they were, cascaded, and cascaded deftly. _

_Susan brought the fabric to her face, felt the silky texture of the embroidery, let the scent of it drift into her nostrils and envelope her in memory. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, a flashing rush of moments running through her head. Nothing could stop her now from falling from the top of the world. No one would think to. No one would try. No one would resist. She had put all of her children to bed one last time. Just like the first time. Then Susan began to hum to herself that age-old lullaby and rose from her chair to go to the kitchen._

_She filled the kettle half way with water and set it on the hearth. The fire she'd tended carefully, stocked up as high as she could. It blazed now with great vigor to heat her necessary liquid. Then Susan pulled from the back of a drawer a few fresh, green sprigs of herbs and set them on the counter. Minutes passed as she paced around the cozy little kitchen, waiting for the fervent fire to do it's duty. Then, when she saw the first traces of boiling, she took the herbs in her hand and gently broke the stalks to expose the center and release the essence and threw them into the water. Tea. Tea to help her sleep._

Lily had moved forward now to the front of the crowd, though the crowd was thinner now that the actual service was over. Cold dirt dripped onto Susan, handful by handful. Lily moved forward yet more and ran her fingers through the dirt, seemingly contemplating her options. Her eyes were thawing now; it was possible she might not be able to keep up her façade. Was it a façade? Susan could only hope. She heard her children talking so far above her. 'When, then?'

'Mari found her. In the morning.'

It was almost true. Mari had found her and called the others, but she hadn't been the first.

_The sun was only just beginning the tint the cottage with its cool, yellow light. Bella was the first one up, as usual, and she sauntered leisurely into the kitchen for a cup of tea. She set the kettle on the fire and sat down on a stool to wait. That's when she noticed the partial green herb sprigs scattered on the counter. She lifted one curiously to her nose and sniffed, then quickly stepped into the sitting room just across the hall. The sight before her came as no surprise, and she stepped calmly over to her mother and laid a hand against her sallow cheek. Cold. Of course cold. The cold of the kitchen herbs. Bella stepped back into the kitchen to pour her tea._

_A half hour later, Mari awoke and went in search of someone to talk to. 'Mother,' she approached. 'Good morning.' And at a lack of response, 'Mother?' And at a cold touch, a scream of horror._

_'That's what happens,' Bella said from the corner softly so Mari wouldn't hear, 'when you drink too much tea.'_

'Corthalen.'

'Corth--?'

'Corthalen.'

Lily bent down and took a small amount of earth in her fingers, then let it slip slowly through onto the grave. 'Goodbye, then,' she said as if in a world very far away.

And Susan watched her turn and walk away with Frodo, first hand in hand, then arm in arm, then more.

A/N: I've been thinking, and I suppose in a way this story is like three stories in one. Lily's innocent and forbidden love of Frodo, which ends with chapter 20, Liberation. The aftermath of that love and the complete destruction of Lily's life, which ends here with Susan's death. And lastly, the resolution -- that's all I'll call it for now – and that ends the book. The point of that? We have approximately 16 chapters left in this minitrology. Stay tuned. And, as always, your thoughts and comments are greatly appreciated. (Gimme an E!)


	42. The Talk about Town

A/N: WooHoo

A/N: WooHoo! A completely new chapter! Holy wow! Yay for the new chapter! Yay!

The _Green Dragon_ was filled to capacity with its usual crowd plus an unusual excess. The air was not filled with smoke, but rather, it was smoke. Everywhere drink flowed freely and conversation boomed, but in one corner of the pub it was of a more interesting sort than elsewhere.

'Did you hear there's to be a wedding?' asked Sandy, the Miller's son, a bit sore on the topic.

'Who hasn'?' asked Hamfast Grubb, less sore but more annoyed of the idea.

'So they were just waitin' for the old girl to die out, eh?' Sandy put in, taking a swig of his beer.

'Seems that way to me,' Hamfast agreed sulkily.

From across the table, a dissenting voice put in, 'I wouldn't write it off as all that.'

Ham and Sandy stared at the interrupter. 'Samsodoc, you git, you thought he was just takin' the girl in to be helpful. Who's goin' ta put stock in your words on it?' Sandy chided.

'Well who's to say the fancy didn't take after Susan threw 'er out? I means her mother disowned her and she had no where to go,' Sam put in.

'She's got a sister and a brother both grown and married with houses she could've stayed at,' Sandy retorted, Hamfast grunting agreement next to him.

'I'm sure if Susan disowned her there would've been a chiding in it for them if not more if they'd have taken her in,' Sam explained.

'But to move in with Baggins,' Ham began.

But Sam stopped him before he went further. 'And it's not just him living up there in the Hill anymore, you remember. Sam Gamgee and Rosie are living up there with him.'

'Sam Gamgee and Rosie's nothin',' Hamfast said, waving them away.

'They's crackin' along with 'em all,' Sandy agreed.

Samsodoc shook his head and took a drink from his pint, but declined to say more. It was his opinion, as it was many people's that the world had just gotten a little too harsh for the Boffins and neither breeding nor insanity was to blame. From Tim Boffin's untimely death to Will Whitfoot's imprisonment by Sharkey, to Miss Lily's unexplained illness, to the rift between her and her mother, nothing seemed to have come easy for the Boffins in the past years. And the streak seemed to have no end in sight; in fact, it seemed to be gaining momentum. And now with the death of Susan Boffin, five sons and daughters not yet come of age were left orphaned, and the burden put on old Will to take care of them all. With the youngest of the children only just now turned 17, the thought in the minds of many was whether Will would live out her thirty-third birthday and just what would happen if he did not.

Sam turned to look behind him at the chattering hobbits. None seemed to have a care in the world and he wondered that some of their good fortune could not be shared with the Boffin family. Worst, he wondered that they could not do their small part in the matter by giving them the benefit of the doubt. Everywhere he turned he heard gossip and more gossip. And very little of it in any way to the credit of the Boffins. Those who, like him, did give the family some credit were quickly put down as a minority of dissenting opinions and there was really nothing any of them could do to convince the others against their beliefs, try as they might.

Lily and Frodo rarely came about now, and Sam thought they were both most likely hurt enough without the gossip they would encounter. He wondered what the wedding would be like. He knew that every family in the Shire would attend, though they would likely not all be invited. He knew they would come just to see for themselves, just to say they'd been there and gossip about it later. There were two possible results of the wedding that Sam could see. The first was that the hobbits would continue on their course and Lily and Frodo would retreat entirely from society to simply be called cracked forever. The second, more desirable possibility was that the hobbits would be charmed by the couple on their wedding day and their taste for gossip would instead be sated by sweet cakes and a fine party and the two would enter back into society as the well-respected family the Bagginses had been and ought once again to be. Sam could say honestly to himself that he had no idea which course time would lead them down, though he wondered at it often.

He looked across the table to Hamfast and Young Sandy where they sat gossiping on a new subject now, though he thought before long they would come back to their previous one as everyone did in time. And then he scanned the room behind him once more. Having finished his ale and finding to company intriguing enough to draw him to have another, he stood from his seat and left for home, where Penny, his wife, waited eagerly.

'He's cracked, he is, that Baggins, just like Bilbo before him. And now he's gone and brought that poor girl along with him. She'll be cracked as much as he coon enough if she isn't already,' Sam heard as he made his way to the door, but now all he did was move on.

A/N: Gimme a V!


	43. Peace and Oblivion

Winter had come and gone and the spring was upon Hobbiton when again Frodo took ill, this time from another wound

Winter had come and gone and the spring was upon Hobbiton when again Frodo took ill, this time from another wound. Lily wondered if it would always be that way, twice a year a week in bed, or maybe even more. But they would get past it and they would move on. They would. They had to. Nothing so small would deter them, nor anything much larger for that matter. So Lily nursed her Frodo, petted him and cooed to him, comforted him as much as possible until it was over and gone. And then they rose up and moved on. Life was lived and time passed and nothing very eventful happened under the Hill.

**A child was born in ??, Sam and Rosie's first. She was called Elanor after the tiny white flowers that bloomed in the grasses of Caras Galadrim. Her hair was fair and her eyes were bright and a beautiful little baby she was. **Down the road at the Burrows' cottage, Peony's wishes were granted with the birth of a daughter, Arabella, dark of hair and green of eye, the spitting image of her father. And a little farther down the road, the Boffin children grew a little bit older and a little bit wiser and old Will Whitfoot took his grandfatherly duties in stride. As Poppy neared her twenty-eighth birthday, she lost some of that mischievousness that most times does fade with age. Bella in her twenty-second year grew quiet and took to drawing by days and nights until her fingers were every moment smudged with pen ink and pencil lead. Little Mari became less of a child with every passing day in visage and in manner. She took her lessons on her own and learned more quickly than ever she or any of the other children had previously. And when she was not at the books, she sat demurely in the sitting room with a piece of needlework or crochet and whiled away the hours with constructive pursuits. Hal at first took to the drink even more than he had previously, but a chiding from the Mayor shoved him into line. After that, he took to helping his grandfather with all sorts of important affairs, taking a great interest in his work and showing all of the talent his mother had predicted. Tom was still as young as ever and seemed unchanged to most those who knew him, but when he finished a game and turned away to walk home, those who looked could see a slump in his shoulders and a solemness on his face that had not been there before. And a little farther down the road yet, Tim set up house with his new wife Polly on a farm he'd bought for the solitude of the work.

So the world turned and the talk about town continued, but Lily and Frodo heard none of it locked up in their perfect hobbit hole. They ignored what the world had to say and lived for the most part without news of anything they did not seek to know. Wedding plans were made after a suitable mourning period and progressed with promise and excitement. Frodo spent less and less time in his study with his book and Lily learned almost more than she wanted in the arts of the homemaker from the well-studied Rosie. All this continued in peace and oblivion until one day the peace was broken by a visitor, and it would not get put back together.

'Frodo!' a friendly voice exclaimed when the molasses-haired hobbit opened the great green door of the smial.

'Peregrin Took!' Frodo exclaimed amicably.

The younger hobbit all but jumped through the door to embrace his comrade, but then pulled back and held him at arm's length. 'Are you sure you've thrown that thing away, Frodo?' he joked. 'It seems you still haven't grown a day older.' Pippin let go of his friend and turned round to survey the smial approvingly.

Frodo felt a chill grip his heart and knew his face betrayed it, though Pippin was not looking close enough to see. But then someone else was. In the doorway still stood another old friend, biding his time in a calmer manner. 'Hello, Frodo,' he said evenly when his host finally took notice of him.

'Good to see you, Merry,' said Frodo in the same low and even tone, but with the pain of his remembrances still reeling in his eyes. The two watched each other for a moment, before their contest was interrupted by a comment from Pippin.

'Nice, this,' he said, indicating the smial about him. 'You've fixed it up well from what those Sackville Bagginses did to it.'

Frodo stepped aside from his place before the door as if in invitation to Merry to enter, but did not respond to Pippin's appreciations. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?' he asked more to Merry than the younger guest, but it was Pippin who answered all the same.

'We were worried about you, Frodo. You never come about anymore. We thought to come by and see how it went with you.' Merry nodded his agreement.

Frodo looked between the two of them, struggling for words. Merry watched him sympathetically. Pippin watched for an answer. 'Won't you came and sit a while, then?' Frodo asked with effort after a time and led the way down the hall into the sitting room. 'Will you have something to eat or some tea, perhaps?' he offered as they entered.

'Only if you've got mushrooms,' Pippin laughed.

And Frodo smiled in return. 'Well you can ask Rosie, if you like --' and he wasn't allowed to say more, because Pippin was back the way they'd come and out the door before the words had escaped his lips. 'I see he's gotten back to his old self after all,' he said as he took a seat near the hearth. The days still had a bite to them and Frodo preferred to keep a fire on well into the spring.

Merry ignored the statement and spoke to his purpose. 'We heard you'd been ill,' he said evenly as ever. It was an apology for not having come sooner, though none was needed.

Frodo shook his head. 'Just. . .' he voiced softly. 'Just Shelob.'

Merry only watched his friend for a moment, knowing their visit caused him at once both pleasure and pain, wondering if it would ever cease to be that way, thinking it would not. 'I should congratulate you,' he said a bit more brightly after a time, 'on the wedding.' Frodo just gave him a little smile and nodded. 'Things are going well here, then?'

'They're going very well, Merry,' Frodo said genuinely.

'And with you?' Frodo might have pretended ignorance to his meaning, but knew very well the difference between the questions. He fumbled about with words for a moment, but was saved by Pippin's reentrance, lacking food of any sort, especially mushrooms.

'What happened there, then?' he asked Frodo, gesturing behind him. 'Rosie's kicked me out of the kitchen, not a morsel to eat. She's in there with Lily cooking everything in sight, but no, not a bit for me. Treat company well around here, you do,' he elaborated.

Frodo smiled. 'She's probably just giving Lily a lesson on something or other. She does hate to be interrupted during them.'

'A lesson? Well what is she learning if she isn't getting any feedback?' Pippin put in, still hung up on his lack of nourishment.

'She gets plenty of feedback from the supper table, Pip,' Frodo said specifically to make his friend jealous.

'All good, I'm sure,' Merry added, with a smile, as though he knew for himself.

'Well fine then, torture a poor, starving gentlehobbit like me,' said Pippin, taking a seat next to Merry on the divan.

They talked of trivial things for a time then, before at last Merry rose and said it was about time they should be getting along. Pippin looked at him with bewilderment on his face, not sure why the fun had to end so soon, but quickly followed his friend's lead when he saw the now-familiar look of authority on his face. 'Aye. It's getting late **and ?? will expect me home**,' he said and rose.

Frodo smiled for them and led them off, but inwardly he finally exhaled. Always coming in a pair, they were, always in a pair. He wondered at how he could somehow see Sam every day and not think a thing of it, yet be sent so far reeling by the sight of his other two comrades. He tried to rationalize in his mind that it was because of Pippin's ever-cheerful outlook and brazen joking of things that should not be joked upon, or because Merry was always inquiring vaguely about his mental state never letting it just be, that perhaps if either had come alone things would have been different, it was just the both of them together that. . . But he knew in his heart that it had nothing to do with Merry or Pippin's mannerisms and everything to do with himself and his own.

Frodo stood to watch them walk a few steps down the path from Bag End before closing the door. Then he turned and pressed it shut. But before the latch clicked in the hole, he heard Pippin say outside, 'I thought it was passed.'

And the solemn return from, 'It will never be over for him, Pip.'

Frodo clicked the latch in place and knew it was the truth, however much he pretended it was not. He stood there for a long while with his back against the door, leaning heavily upon it, feeling the weight of the Ring still hanging about his neck. He reached his right hand up and traced the line where it would have hung on its chain, the line where scars now burned and rippled over his icy pale flesh beneath his vest and shirt. The scars would always be there, inside and out. His chemise would hide them from the world, but nothing could hide them from himself.

Frodo was still leaning against the great green door when a second knock came upon it that day. He slowly, mournfully, heavily pulled himself up and away from it and answered the knock with a weary tug.

'Hello, Frodo,' Hal Boffin said casually to the hobbit thirty years his senior as though they were contemporaries and old friends. 'Good afternoon.'

'Good afternoon to you Hal,' said Frodo quite surprised by the face that had greeted him upon the opening of the door. 'What can I do for you?'

'I've come to see Lily, if she's around,' said Hal confidently, coolly.

'She's in the kitchen with Rosie, learning a new dish or two, I believe,' Frodo responded. 'Come in and I'll fetch her.' He stepped away from the doorway to let him pass.

'Oh, no need,' Hal said easily. 'I don't want to disturb her if she's busy. If you could just carry a message to her from me that would suffice.' Frodo stepped forward again and nodded his assent. 'I've come on behalf of the Boffin family to extend an invitation to her to come to tea tomorrow or any day after as her leisure. We've not seen her in some time and thought to do a little catching up.'

Frodo nodded. 'I'll tell her,' he said in a breathy voice. He was losing his momentum, and losing it fast.

Thankfully, Hal wasn't a chatter. 'Well then I'll just be on my way. We hope to see her soon. Good afternoon, Frodo.' And then her was gone.

Frodo shut the door once again and this time made it to the sitting room before collapsing into his chair to stare broodingly at the fire.

A/N: Gimme an I!


	44. The Way He Touched Her

Bella sat as usual in the drawing room, her hands covered in their characteristic pen ink and lead

Bella sat as usual in the drawing room, her hands covered in their characteristic pen ink and lead. She was working on a piece she'd begun the day before, a still life of a vase and flower sitting atop a stack of books. It was nothing spectacular and nothing serious, just something to pass the time. Across the room a fire crackled in the hearth and Bella paused a moment to stare into it. Her hand fell from her work and her pencil dropped to the floor. She watched the flames lick the logs and the sides inner chamber of the fireplace through the wrought-iron grate that kept the fire contained.

It was her favorite pastime now to sit and draw, but only ostensibly. In reality she was not drawing as much as she was thinking. There was nothing worse for her, yet nothing she did more. It was not that she wanted to think so much, just that she couldn't stop it. So the safest thing was to accept it, sit alone and let it happen. At first she had tried to make the thoughts dissipate by talking with other people or sitting in noisy, crowded rooms, but she found the conversation easily tuned out and the rooms never as crowded as she would like. She would slip off into her thoughts anyways and then it was only more dangerous for her for all the people watching. Everyone had been extremely concerned with her after he mother's death because of this. But she'd quickly found ways to hide it and pretend that she was only more solitary now if not quite normal.

And it was only right that she be solitary after all, for all she'd done. She'd chosen her side and now she would reap the consequences. Sure, they had no idea, but it mattered little. It wasn't Bella's family who was keeping her solitary and confined, after all, it was her own self, a self that went on as it pleased without any of her permission.

_Bella stepped lightly into the cottage and lightly through the hall toward the drawing room, where her mother had told her she'd left the handkerchief she'd meant to give to Lucy Proudfoot at their tea. But as she approached, she heard voices and her step instinctively slowed. She'd known she should have walked away or alerted her sisters to her presence, but instead she stood to one side of the open door and waited, listened._

_'__I__'__m. . . sorry,__'__ she heard her eldest sister say. __'__I__'__m just. . . sorry.__'_

_'__Is that it?__'__ came another voice, Lily's. __'__Is that all you have to say about it?__'_

_'__I can__'__t say. . . I know what it is to you.__'__ Peony was speaking again, but softly and Bella leaned in closer to hear what was being said. '. . .I had to marry well and soon, at least, for the good of use all. And I took it upon me to find a good husband and quickly. I don__'__t regret it, Lily, and I__'__m happy in my life. But I never figured that sort of a life for you.__' Peony paused and Bella took a breath, wondering what she was talking about.__'__I was always the sensible one, the one who took problems on to fix that were too big for her. And Poppy was always the gossip and Bella we knew would find nothing more rewarding than having children of her own to boss around. And Mari, well. . . Mari hasn__'__t quite figured out yet who she is going to be yet, but she isn__'__t as like Poppy as she thinks she is.__You were never like any of us, Lily.__'__ Bella shifted her position and thoughtlessly shook her head in confusion. __'__You were very like yourself. When you were young there was gossip in your tongue as there is in the tongues of many a child, but it was never quite the same gossip and you never cared the same way for it as those who heard it after and before.__'_

_Bella heard her oldest sister sigh and then continue. __'__What I mean by all this, Lily, is that I__'__ve been thinking. How could I not have? And what I__'__ve come round to is this. I wish you the best. I don__'__t think your Mr. Baggins is cracked all that badly after all and if he is, I think more ought to be.' Bella almost gasped aloud. Her Mr. Baggins? 'I can__'__t say I approve of what you did, Lily. But if there__'__s anything I can do. . .__'__ And what exactly had she done._

_Bella was forced to wait a long time before her sisters spoke again and when they did she suppressed a frustrated moan, for now they spoke of Poppy and of Hal Hornblower, the miscreant. She was about to turn away and return to her mother's side without a handkerchief or any real piece of news, when she heard her light-haired sister say, __'__I don__'__t know why I did it, Peony. I never thought I__'__d do anything like that. I never. . .' Bella perked up with renewed interest. 'But when I was sitting next to him on the bed. . . He__'__d taken such good care of me and been so kind. . .__But that__'__s not it at all. No. When he was I was sitting next to him. . . When he touched me. . .__'__ And at that Bella did gasp, but then quickly covered her mouth and was glad to hear her sisters continue speaking just as they had been._

_'__I envy you that, Lily,__'__ she heard Peony say._

_There was a long pause then before Lily said, __'__All I ever wanted was a proper life. But I__'__m afraid I__'__ve lost any possibility now of that forever, haven__'__t I? Even if I left him now, Peony, even if I found someone practical, it would never be a good and proper life. And I would always know in the back of my mind. . . that I loved him,__'__ Lily sighed, __'__in every way possible.__'_

_Just outside the doorway, Bella stood and watched unbeknownst to her sisters. She took a breath, wondered if they would say more, and decided she couldn't keep still long enough to hear them even if they did. So she turned on her heal and left back the way she had come, ran along back to her mother, her mind reeling with thoughts. The way he touched her. The way he touched her. He touched her._

'Bella?' Mari's voice from the hallway broke into Bella's thoughts and she started, turning to see what her little sister wanted. 'We'll be having a guest for tea,' Mari said when her sister turned towards her. 'It's Lily.'

A/N: Gimme an E!


	45. Supplication

Lily knocked thrice on the brown, wooden door of the cottage and was greeted by her smiling sister Poppy

Lily knocked thrice on the brown, wooden door of the cottage and was greeted by her smiling sister Poppy. 'Oh, Lily! I'm so very glad you could come. We all are. It's so very good to see you!' she exclaimed, pulling her sister inside. And from then on the tea was increasingly silent. Lily greeted her other siblings as warmly as she might and sat to tea between Mari and her grandfather. The conversation was sparse and forced and throughout all of their minds ran the same thread of thought. Susan was not there.

It was the first time they had all been together since Susan had died, and the first time Lily had returned to her grandfather's home. The tension in the room was palpable. Without their mother there to force on the conversation, there seemed nowhere for it to go. So the family sat mostly in silence sipping their tea and hoping that next time it would be better.

Lily looked around her at her family. They were strangers to her now in many ways. She did not know them anymore, for life had changed them much. But neither did they know her, for they had not thought to ask till now. But Lily did not blame them. She knew that everything that had hurt her had hurt them as well and that they all had just been pulled along on the course she had charted, mostly without any consent or even knowledge of what was happening. She might've come to see them. She could've decided to call. But instead she had holed herself up under the Hill and shut them out of her life, without much regard for how they might want or need her in theirs. And so when Frodo had delivered the message that Hal had given him, it had been apparent to Lily what she would do: she would go. She would build the bridges Frodo had urged her to build all those months ago, but now only with those surviving, only with those she thought she might be able to love again, those she realized she had never had reason to stop loving. But inside her heart she knew that she resented not only her mother for what had happened, but the other members of her family as well. Poppy had made an effort while she could and Mari had come to see her once at Bag End, but overall she'd felt utterly deserted. Though she knew her mother would have done anything she could to stop her siblings from having contact with her, she thought they might've tried a bit harder to get past her. There were seven of them, after all, and only one of her.

As for her grandfather, she had no idea what to think of old Will. She was more curious to see him even than the rest. He was the Mayor of Hobbiton. And Lily could not even begin to imagine what he thought of the whole ordeal. But she was soon to find out. After the tea was over -- and this was soon for the lack of chatter -- Will touched Lily's elbow lightly as he rose from the table and told her softly that he wanted to see her in his study. And so Lily smiled for her family, rose and went after him.

There were very few times in her life when Lily had been invited into her grandfather's study. It had always been a sort of sacred, forbidden place when she had come to visit as a child and when the Boffins had moved into the Whitfoot cottage, the feeling had stayed. Each of the Boffin children had grown up knowing that the study was the one place in his house where they could not play and they had decided each of their own accord that it was the one place they would never hang their hats. Will had never forbidden the children to enter the study or even asked them not to, but none of the children had ever entered unless asked. In fact, Lily could not remember having been inside since the family had relocated.

So now Lily stepped into her grandfather's study and let him close the door behind her. Will passed in front of her to lean against the front of his desk. He took a deep breath, and then finally began speaking. 'Lily. . .' he said. 'Oh, my little Lily. . . I haven't the slightest clue what to say to you.'

Lily realized his voice carried in it no tone of disappointment or reproach and forced herself to breathe. 'You don't have to--'

'Yes. Yes, I do, Lily. Yes, I do,' Will stopped her. He sighed. 'Lily, my dear,' he began, 'it seems things have changed very much between us. We haven't seen each other in some time, hm? And now here we are with nothing to say to each other and so much to be said.' He shook his head. 'Lily, your mother's gone. And this is what we have left as her legacy. I don't know everything. Susan never did keep me quite as informed as would have behooved her. In any case, I don't know everything. And I'm not sure which of the things I do know and truths and which are conjecture. I don't know that I need to. But Lily, I know that you are my granddaughter.

'I've heard it said that you're going to marry the lad. Well, I've no qualms against that,' Will said with a smile as he saw the flash of joy in Lily's eyes. 'Lily. . . I wish you the best; I always have. But now there's some mending to be done round these parts. And I think you ought to be the one to start it off.' Lily watched her grandfather with curiosity in her eyes. 'Come back here, Lily, and stay with us until you're right and proper married. I know you hadn't much of a choice with you mother, dear, but now you have. Come back here and live like a proper girl in your proper family home. And then we'll all see each other every day as we used to and things can begin to mend. I think we both know they won't mend as they are now. That tea was a disaster we all had to face, but those after it don't have to be.'

Lily considered her grandfather's supplications for a moment, then asked, 'Are you asking me to come home because you want me here, because you want to fix things. . . or because you don't want me living with Frodo?'

Will hesitated and Lily knew the answer. 'Lily, I worked with Frodo Baggins a year past. He and I got on well enough. He's a good hobbit and not at all cracked like they say in my opinion. He has secrets, sure, and some of them great, but they're none as will hurt anybody. In simple words, Lily, I like him very well, and you have my blessing in this marriage. . .'

Lily finished for him. 'But you can't afford your family the shame of my staying at Bag End.'

'It would be better for you, Lily, better for you both, if you would come back to live here,' Will argued. 'In town they'd begin to see that it was circumstance forced you to where you were and not impropriety. You could be great in life, Lily. Frodo could be great, could have the prestige to his name which once was carried easily on the roof of Bag End. They will forget and forgive easily, they will, and then your life will be full of nothing but happy times.'

Lily watched her grandfather as he spoke and inside she felt a deep sadness. His invitation had meant more to her than what he thought it might, and knowing that it came from practical motives cost him more than he thought to risk. She sighed. 'I cannot come back, Grandfather,' she said. 'But I think you knew that from the start. Bag End is my home now. I have lived there these long months and will stay there all my days.'

'Lily--' he tried, but she would not let him.

'Grandfather,' she said in supplication mirroring his, 'please accept this as fact and the truth. It cannot be changed, it cannot be altered. It is as it is. I will tell you what you need to know to agree to this or forget that I ever was your granddaughter. I will tell you what you ask, if you ask it. But please, you must decide. Is it to be pride? Or me?'

A/N: Gimme a W!


	46. Paving the Way

Poppy caught Lily by the elbow as she exited their grandfather's study

Poppy caught Lily by the elbow as she exited their grandfather's study. 'What did she say to you?' she asked softly so the old hobbit wouldn't hear.

Lily shrugged. 'Nothing important. Just that everything's changed now, is all.'

'Well what did he mean by that?' Poppy asked eager, dragging her sister away from the study door.

Lily sighed. 'I suppose he meant that he approves of Frodo and I being married. He gave us his blessing, in any case.'

'Lily, that's wonderful,' Poppy exclaimed in a whisper. 'Why aren't you happy?'

Lily turned sharply on her sister. 'I am,' she said unconvincingly, 'but anyways, I don't need his blessing to be happy.'

'Well, I'm happy,' said Poppy, ignoring her sister's tone. 'If he's given his blessing to you, well then. . . Lily, I've something to tell you,' she said, turning her sister roughly about to face her.

'What is it?' Lily asked with little concern.

Poppy look to her left, then her right, then said, 'Come with me.' She led her sister into the bedroom they used to share and shut the door tight. Then she sat her sister down on the bed and stood in front of her. 'I'm in love!' she said.

Lily watched her sister's eyes light up and her smile broaden. She wanted to be happy for the girl, but she was skeptical. And if she had not been skeptical, she thought she only would have been jealous of this naïve little girl with her perfect love and her perfect world. No strife for this one, none at all. But all the benefit of what Lily's love had cost her. She struggled for a response, but had none.

'I know, you're speechless, right?' Poppy went on for her. 'Hal Hornblower, who'd have thought, right? Me and Hal Hornblower. But he's a sensible boy, Lily, once you know him, and once he's grown up a bit he'll make a good contribution to the community in his own way. And he's sweet, Lily, so sweet. And he comes from a good family, which is why I picked him in the first place. But, oh, Lily, I was so afraid Grandfather would be very strict with us after what happened with you and Frodo. And now he's given you his blessing, and oh, this just makes everything perfect! Now we may be betrothed and once I'm come of age-- Five years, Lily! Five years! It seems like such a long time! I can hardly wait! Well, perhaps I won't have to, I mean-- You seem to have gotten out of it alright, eh? But now, oh, now--'

Poppy was cut off by the storm that came from Lily. 'What did you say?'

'Which what?' Poppy stopped, an innocently confused look on her face.

'What was that you said about me getting out of it alright?' Lily pressed.

Poppy struggled to remember. She'd been just chitter-chattering on, not really paying attention to where her words were taking her. 'I-- I--'

Lily stood from the bed, putting herself nose-to-nose with her sister. 'Here's this first, Poppy. I haven't gotten out of anything. I have be poisoned and disowned and publicly shamed, so whatever it is you think I've gotten out of I haven't. I have lost everything that once I held dear and now have had to make a new life built on nothing but a silly child's hope. I have sacrificed everything, Poppy Boffin, so do not ever you say I got off alright. Now, you will tell me where you heard what you just mentioned.'

Poppy looked at her sister blankly for a moment, then admitted, remembering, 'Bella said--'

'Bella?--' Lily thought aloud.

'I heard her talking to herself on day in the drawing room. She was-- You know how she gets sometimes. Or perhaps you don't. All she does now is draw and when she's alone, when no one's about, sometimes you can hear her talking to herself, like she's going over things in her head. And then sometimes she hums to herself or sings softly and it's these things she tells you she's been doing if you catch her at the talking, but really you can hear what she says quite clearly and. . .' Poppy's voice faded away as she watched her sister watch her. 'That's where I heard it,' she said softly, feeling a child and a fool.

Lily was quiet for a moment before she took a very deep breath. 'I'll be going now, Poppy. Come by for tea sometime, then, won't you? And tell the others,' she said in a very detached manner. And as she opened the door she added, 'I'm happy I could clear the way for you,' and disappeared from sight.

A/N: What's that spell? Review! (please!)


	47. What We Have to Do

When next Lily saw her family, it was a month later for dinner. It was Mari's eighteenth birthday and family and friends were gathering to celebrate. It wasn't, of course, the first time since their tea that Lily had seen the individual members of her family, but it was the first time they'd been al together. Peony and Merimon and Prisco and Arabella were there as well as Tim with a very pregnant Polly by his side. Then, of course, there were the friends and neighbors, not nearly as many as would have appeared at a Baggins' party, but a goodly many. Penny and Samsodoc Brandybuck were there and a few of Merimon's close relations. Lucy Proudfoot showed up with all of her gossiping ladies in tow on the claim that she'd been a good friend of Susan's and wanted to look out for her daughter now that she was gone. The truth of it was, however, that she'd guessed that Frodo and Lily would be there and wanted to be the first to know all the best gossip on them.

It took Lily only a few minutes to lose Frodo to a passing gossip and only a few minutes more to get caught up herself by one. But thankfully it was only a few minutes more before her old friend Primrose Goodbody spotted her and came to her rescue. 'I'm sorry I haven't been to see you,' she said once they had secured a more secluded location to talk. 'My family's not exactly a pack of your biggest fans.'

'And you?' Lily asked, with a too-serious tone. Then she shook her head and sighed. 'No, I'm sorry,' she said softly. 'That was wrong of me.'

Primrose watched Lily for a moment until she looked back up at her. 'It's alright. Things are hard for you now everyday, like they shouldn't have to be. Nevermind what I think, Lily, or anyone else. That's all that matters. Whatever really happened -- and I'm not sure at that -- all these people should have to do is look at you and your pretty face and your beautiful life all torn up by sorrow and stop their chattering for just one moment.'

Lily smiled thankfully for her friend. 'I'm glad you're here, then, Prim,' she said. 'I think you may be my only friend left.' Primrose smiled back at her, but did not speak to deny it. In a few minutes, Penny Brandybuck found them and she and Primrose exchanged a few words before she looked sort of sadly at Lily. 'Oh, don't pity me, Penny,' Lily said at her look. 'I've taken my own course. But you, you Miss Bracegirgle, how do you like being a Brandybuck.'

'You should come by for tea some time, Lily. You know you're always welcome,' she said, with only a smile as acknowledgement of Lily's change of subject.

'Just me?' Lily asked with a meek smile, and Penny, knowing just what she meant, responded:

'I wouldn't think of having anyone else.'

Lily smiled and the three chatted cordially for a while, Lily thinking all the while she was glad to have had such good friends as a child, even if she hadn't known how good they'd turn out to be. Lily took on the conversation in a bit of a fog, lost in thoughts and reminiscences of her youth, responding when it was required of her, questioning at the proper times, until one comment caught her attention. 'What did you just say?' she interjected as Primrose continued with her story.

Her friend was flustered for a few seconds before responding, 'Bella's working at the miller's?' she asked, confused and a bit concerned by Lily's reaction. 'Didn't you know?'

Lily shook her head. 'No. When did she--'

'Oh, a few weeks ago. She helps Salvia with the children. There are so many of them, after all; who wouldn't need help? Anyways, she told me herself she felt she ought to help out some. Poppy's taken on the task of doing everything a mother ought and Hal apparently had really sobered up about life, you know. He's helping the Mayor, your grandfather, I hear. And Tom and Mari are still deep in the middle of their studies. She told me she felt awful sitting there drawing all day when the rest were all off being busy. So when she heard Salvia was looking for some help now that the mill's running well again, she went down to see her. Oh, Salvia was surprised, of course, don't let me tell you about that. But she took her on, all the same, having no reason not to want her, just being surprised at her wanting the opportunity. So she's workin' down there o' days now,' Primrose finished. 'I know you don't live there anymore, but I'm surprised you hadn't heard, Lily.' But Lily gave no response to her friend's observations, and instead excused herself and went in search of a certain one of her sisters.

'How've you been?' she said softly to her sister as she approached her from behind.

Bella jumped at the voice she heard and more at its soft tone. She turned. 'I've been well,' she said, puzzlement playing across her features. Lily thought from her expression that she must have heard about her conversation with Poppy. 'I trust you've been well, too?' Bella inquired once she had regained her composure.

'I have,' said Lily, with a soft kindness Bella had not expected. 'I heard you've begun working for Salvia.'

'I have,' she echoed.

'If I'd know it was as bad as all that, I might've mentioned it to Frodo,' Lily offered truthfully.

Bella shook her head. 'Grandfather would never have accepted it if you had,' she said even more truthfully.

A silence slipped into the air for a moment and then was gone. 'I'm sorry for your having to work there at any rate. Mother never would have wanted it.'

At the mention of Susan, both girls shift uncomfortably in unison, wincing internally at the involuntary memories that surfaced at the name. Bella looked to the ground, then back up to her sister. 'We do what we have to do,' she said softly, apologetically.

Lily nodded. 'Aye,' she voiced. 'We do what we have to do.'

………………………………………………………………………………...

A/N: Remember reviews. They are made of the win.


	48. The Second Summer

The second summer seemed far too normal for what is was. Life went on in the Shire as it had been going on for generations. And as monumental as the events of the previous year had been to the Boffins and those under the Hill, the rest of the Shire was completely unaffected by them. Farmer Maggot grew mushrooms; Fatty Bolger grew fatter, and the Shire grew up around the little Boffin family, forgetting its times of troubles and woe more quickly than any from the outside would have thought possible. The hobbit themselves thought nothing of it and this added to the contentment that rested on the little society, as it had ever rested, almost even in times of war.

For Lily and Frodo, the summer passed without a wedding and if you'd asked either of them why, they'd not have been able to tell you. But the people of Hobbiton had much more to say on the subject. Some said the poor girl was still grieving the loss of her mother, couldn't move on from it because such a rift had been brought between them near the end. They said this, too, was why she would not move back home. She could not bear to see the faces of her siblings every day. And it was also why she rarely came out of the smial. She spent her days wallowing in her own private misery. There was nothing to be done, they said, but watch and wait, and help when and where they could. Others said there wasn't to be any wedding, that the whole thing had been a sham to get the townspeople all excited. And others who thought the same about the likelihood of a wedding thought it was because perhaps the girl had gained some sense and was in the process of extracting herself from the presence of Mad Baggins. But then, put in still others, perhaps she'd gone thrice as mad as any and the two were just going to go on like that forever. And those were the folks who whispered around that they ought to be expelled from the Shire so as not to contaminate the good folk. But then the old familiar faces of Merry and Pippin and Sam would come around as they so often did and whisper little words of chiding for such improper thoughts and all would be set to rights again.

For Frodo's three companions were very well respected about the Shire, if he was not. But that's not to say he wasn't. Though the hobbits didn't know quite what for, there was a certain feeling of owing something to the odd hobbit up there in Bag End. No one ever mentioned it or did anything about it, and it certainly wasn't strong enough to keep them from chattering about dear Frodo, but whenever he came about he was treated with kindness and care. And whenever he was seen it was always doing something good. Though he did not come about often, when he did Frodo was just as generous and cordial as ever, and the townspeople were forced to remember Bilbo before him and how he had share his good fortune with all the people of the Shire. Then for a moment or two they would feel sorry for what they'd said about him the previous night over a full mug of ale and have to say hello and how was he as a sort of inexpert apology.

Then in the end with all of this generosity and such, it was the optimists who won out the argument, and it was whispered all about Hobbiton that the wedding had not taking place that summer only because it was to be such a very grand event and they had not had time yet to finish planning. That was, after all, what kept them holed up in there all day. It was just the wedding plans, after all. And there was drinking and laughing and speculating on what sort of food there would be and what sort of clothes they would all wear and would there be presents. And then the older of them would saying knowingly, of course there would be presents. Who ever heard of a Baggins who didn't give presents?

And all along, on the outskirts of the Shire, the Elves when marching silently, two by two, to the shore.


	49. Volunteer Heroics

Another thing, too, happened over the summer. Frodo became increasingly involved in his book. He would sit for days holed up in his study and only come out when food or rest could no longer be denied his body. From her bedroom, Lily could hear him sometimes in the middle of the night just getting to bed. It made her more than a little curious of what was so important and enthralling it could wait till morning.

So one day when Frodo went on one of his rare outings, she went to his study and picked up the great red book that sat on the very top and opened it. 'There and Back Again,' it said on the first page, 'by Bilbo Baggins.' Lily remembered Bilbo's tales of his adventures and the freedom with which he told them. Frodo was very different from Bilbo, she thought then. He did not ever want to be the hero did he? Or the center of attention? She opened the book and scanned through the first section, searching for Frodo's purposeful script. She knew she'd seen him writing in here. . . somewhere. Finally she found it, quick black lines dancing familiarly across the page. She read the first line, sat down, read on.

It was ages later when she lifted her head from the page, took a breath, and heavily let it out.

'So now you know,' said a quiet, sad voice from behind her.

Lily jumped. She had been so consumed by the tale that she had not heard anyone come in. 'Frodo, I--' she began, turning to see him watching her, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand and stepped forward.

'I always figured you would find out eventually,' he said in a far-off tone, she had not heard often before. 'Forgive me for wanting to put it off as long as possible.'

'I'm sorry. I just--'

Again he stopped her. He shook his head. 'If I had wanted to keep you from it forever, I might've locked it away somewhere or only brought it out to work on it at night,' he explained. 'No. I wanted to spare you it as long as I could, just as much as I wanted to spare myself the explaining. But in the end I wanted just as much to let you understand.'

Lily watched him as he looked down at the creamy, half-filled page in front of them. He ran the fingers of his left hand lightly over it and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, then was gone. 'How does it end?' she asked softly, torn between watching the emotion play on his face and knowing the answer to the question burning in her throat.

He turned to her and lifted his hand from the pages. 'It ends with this,' he said, pointing with his left hand to the mutilated middle finger of his right, 'and with the fall of the tower and the retreat of the darkness, with the triumph of the free peoples of Middle Earth.'

'With your triumph,' Lily added.

But Frodo shook his head. 'No. Not my triumph.'

Lily watched him, not sure if she should ask, but she did. 'What do you mean?'

Frodo looked deeply, sadly into her eyes for a very long moment before he responded, and when he did it was so softly that Lily had to strain to hear it. 'I could not do it, Lily. I was not strong enough, in the end,' he said. 'It was not my triumph.'

'I don't understand,' Lily responded. 'I don't. . .'

Frodo shook his head. 'They don't know, Lily, my darling. Sam will never speak of it, and they would not believe me if I told them. If you leave this place, our home, and travel on for some time you will reach the homes of other races and other peoples. And all of them know my name. I am their hero, their savior, their hope. But they do not know, Lily, what Sam and I know, what you are about to know: that in the end, it was not by my strength but by chance and the folly of one utterly and completely consumed by its power that the Ring was destroyed. They do not know that were it up to me, all would have fallen. I am no hero, Lily, so do not ever think it of me. I have enjoyed the spoils of hero's life, the praise and celebration in worlds that seem very far away from here. But what is left to me in the Shire, my Lily, is only the truth. I am no hero to my own people, Lily, because they were untouched by the Shadow and they know nothing of the deeds we did so far from our home. And it is as it should be. Merry and Pippin and Sam, they were the one who triumphed far away in the East. And so they deserve what they have gotten of it.'

'Oh, but Frodo--' Lily began, but for a third time her stopped her.

'Do not protest it, my Lily,' he said softly, 'for if you had been there, you would not were you blind, deaf, and mute. It is not a bad thing not to be remembered. All is as I should be, if not as I wish it. All will be well,' he told her.

She waited a moment, considering. 'How do you wish it?' she asked after a time.

'I wish it had never been, Lily,' he said, staring ever deeper into her so small and fragile soul. 'I wish I had never left he Shire, that the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of it had ever come to pass.' Lily stared back at him, unable to speak, unable to break their gaze. 'But none of that was my choice, dear Lily. None of it was left for me to decide. The Ring came into my possession, and thus it followed that I was the one who had to keep it.'

After a long time, Frodo broke their gaze and turned to leave, and it was then when Lily found her voice. 'But at the Counsel,' she called after him. 'At the Counsel you wrote that you took it of your own accord. You volunteered.'

Frodo turned back to her and smiled sadly, thinking she would never really understand. 'Yes, I did,' he said and exited the room.

Lily sat and stared after him for a moment, then turned and stared at the open book, then, after a long moment, closed it.


	50. A Sister's Advice

'I don't know what to say to him anymore,' Lily told her sister as they sat in her sitting room having tea. 'Ever since I read the book. . . Ever since he told me those things. . . I've just got no idea what to say to him. I mean, what do you say to someone who's done those things, who's known those pains? And me sitting here complaining of how much all this has cost me and how difficult my life has been when it was only a selfish pursuit in the first place.'

Peony sipped her tea and watched her sister fret rather calmly. 'What did he do?'

'Hah!' Lily laughed. It wasn't an absurd question, it just sounded so to her. 'He only saved us all. That's all he did.'

Peony watched he calmly. 'Well,' she said after a time. 'What's changed?'

Now Lily laughed again, but this time for the lightness of Peony's voice. 'He's saved us all! That's what's changed.'

Peony waited a moment for her sister's spirit to calm. 'And?' she said at last. 'I asked what had changed. That's not it. He was always a hero, you just didn't know why. But you did have some idea, Lily. You told me yourself about the time you snuck off to watch them when they'd only just come back, when Sharkey still ruled here. You told me you'd seen the way they talked to him, protected him, obeyed him. You told me there was something special about him. You told me he'd done something quite important. Don't you remember? You knew it even then. The only thing that's changed not is you know just exactly what is it he's done.'

'But--' Lily tried and her sister waited for the protest, but Lily could think of none to voice. She took a drink of her tea, her first. It was cold. She set it down on the little table to her left. 'The difference is. . .' she said hesitantly, 'that now I know what happened and not just what he did. . . or that he did something.'

'What do you mean?' asked Peony, her calm façade finally melting.

Lily looked up at her sister. 'He was stabbed with a poisoned sort of sword, and he was stabbed with a giant pike thing. And he shot at, oh so many times, and he went without food, went without water for, oh, so long. And his finger, Peony, you've seen it. And the whole time. . . The whole time. . .' Lily trailed off, shaking her head, her eyes now closed, her head falling into her hands.

'The whole time what?' Peony coaxed.

'The whole time. . . It was because he volunteered to do it,' Lily said, her head still bent into her hands.

Peony understood the sentiment, but knew her sister was covering for something. 'The whole time what?'

Lily didn't think Frodo would like it very much if she told Peony what she had been about to say, so she just sat silently for a moment. But she could feel her sister's gaze on her. Peony was waiting her out. And as her sister had know she would, Lily eventually cracked. 'The whole time her was carrying with him this Ring, this. . . this horrible Ring. And it was nothing but evil and so heavy, so heavy. And it was the thing he was going to destroy in the first place. Peony,' Lily paused and sat up at last, 'he has these scars on his chest. Well, he has a very many scars on his chest, but these.' She gestured to her own neck and chest. 'These scars are little thin burned lines that come down from his neck. It's where he wore it on its chain, the Ring, I mean. I'm certain of it, Peony; I am. I'm certain of it.'

Peony tried to step away from the idea of when her sister had seen Frodo's chest and focus on the topic at hand. She glanced over at Arabella where she lay in her crib and then back to Lily. 'Well,' she said finally, 'the only thing that's changed, then, is what you know. As long as you've been close to him he's had these things in his past. And you--' She winced. '--had seen those scars he carries as reminders long before you know what they serve to remind him of. He is the same as always he has been, and from what you tell me he has not changed in his attitude toward you.' Lily shook her head. 'So it is you who must learn to live with what you have been told, you who must adjust.'

Lily sighed and looked over at little Arabella, envying Peony the simplicity of her life. 'I suppose it is.'

'In the mean time,' said Peony with a smile as she rose from her seat and picked up her daughter who had begun to squirm and cry softly, 'I suggest you make your wedding plans.'


End file.
